Tempest Tossed
by Willofthewisp
Summary: Come sit by me in the candlelight. Ye look sober enough to appreciate what I’m about to tell ye. There I was, stunned stupid as a newborn calf, to know that I would be diving straight into the Locker for a crew I didn’t even know." J/E, many pairings
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything except a car.**

**A/N: Hi! I've finally decided to do an Alternate Universe fic. Everything in the movies has happened up until AWE and all of my stories that take place during and before the movies have still happened. After this brief prologue, we will pick up when our heroes first set sail out of the Locker after picking up Jack. But what if they were in the Locker for much longer than the movie? **

* * *

Aye, there be more swine here in this little pub than be in all them pens what reek in the back, to be sure. It sours the blood when some toothless git stumbles over and starts with the sweet-talking. Alcohol. Does wonders for one's confidence, does it not? Aye. Course, I was never one to shy away from a strong pint down my gullet, neither. The devil's beverage, says them teetotalers. Mother's milk, says I.

Tortuga was never a place of high class. Was never meant to be. Ever since the kings and all them rich fancy folk on high formed their treaties, men just like them that whistle at me now decided to hell with the rules and started new lives for themselves at sea. Pirates, me dear. This was the age of pirates, third oldest profession, I'd say, third to prostitution and the spying. Was one of them once, was I, and then I met that cursed Tia Dalma. Ambitious to the hilt and twice as cunning. Well, the succubus reeled me to her and punished me good for a life of drinking and fighting—not like she punished Davy Jones, no. I got off far easier. No. My task was a simpler one, said she. I was to be a guardian angel.

"This aint' the face of no angel," I had said, shaking my head at her. "This ain't even the face of an intermittent church-goer."

"Don't mean a thing to me," said she, and from that time on, for twenty years total, I got to go from ship to ship, whichever she tells me, and look after all those on board.

Did I say punishment? Belay that. Methinks she could be listening in on our little conversation. Compared to dyin' of pneumonia in that jail or facing a hanging, I'd gladly use these little wings in the back of me to do some good in the world.

But it was one ship in particular, one assignment, that was worth the remembering. T'was on the tail end of my service to her, that I had but three more years to go and I could have me life back, t'would be as if I had never left the world, she said. I'd seen enough magic by then not to blink at that, but what she said next, well, that was still a good finger-in-the-eye, I'll tell ye that.

See, I was in prison, next to Anne, waiting for me hanging or for the miscarriage to destroy me, whichever came first, and I would have welcomed either one at that point, too sick and too filthy and too tired to care for much else.

"Ye want out?"

There she was, her green teeth and bloodshot eyes staring me in the face.

"Who are ye?" I had breathed, so hungry and exhausted I could barely lift me head out of the dirty hay.

"I am da sea. I am many forms. I can take you away from all dis, Mary Read."

"I'm yours." I was a might surprised she understood me, seeing as I had coughed it out, the phlegm sticking to me lips. Sounded a bit Faustian in hindsight, but when you're layin' there dying and a hand offers you a leg up, ye just see if ye don't take it.

She brought me back, said I would be her angel, to spare as many as I could from falling victim to Davy Jones, her mistake. But like I said, it was on the tail end of me service to her that she summoned me to the swamp shack once more.

"Ye be goin' to da Locker soon."

"Davy Jones' Locker? Don't even see how an angel can beat that, miss, 'less you count on clipping me wings?"

"I will be goin' der soon with a crew, and you will be der for dem when dey need you."

Now, I was a right puzzled I was. If they's already in the Locker, what use would they have for me? Oh here, dear, I'll get the waitress to bring ye some ale. Come sit by me in the candlelight. Ye look sober enough to appreciate what I'm about to tell ye. There I was, stunned stupid as a newborn calf, to know that I would be diving straight into the Locker for a crew I didn't even know.


	2. Strange Bedfellows

Jack awoke with aching muscles and a sore back, but he could only smile. Physical pain would be a pretty difficult thing to imagine, he thought. No other shadows or people that looked just like him running around…yes. That nap, that priceless dreamless nap, had truly been a moment's peace. You aren't out of the Locker yet either, mate. Don't forget that little bit of information. Rolling over onto his stomach, he inhaled his pillow hoping the comforting scent would make him forget.

_Ain't no one been in that cabin since Miss Elizabeth spent the night in it a while back_, Gibbs had said.

Rolling again onto his back, he snorted. How long had he been in the Locker? How long had they all decided he was worth bring back? Instead of snapping at Gibbs and storming in here to get some decent sleep in God knows how long, he should have made those inquiries, thrown Barbossa overboard, taken control of the _Pearl, _and shot that young miss in the head.

Still time, mate, if you're interested.

Bloody hell, he was interested in something, but it wasn't that.

Springing out of the bed like it were covered in nails, he staggered over to his chair for his coat. You aren't out of the Locker yet either, mate, he thought to himself again, throwing his coat on, and that is truly a discomforting notion.

Excellent word choice, mate.

Bugger.

It is excellent word choice. My apologies if you felt I was being sarcastic.

Sarcasm is not for one to interpret but rather something to be heard and recognized, unless one only perceives a statement to be sarcastic, in which case the speaker would then beg the question if the listener wanted the sarcastic remark to be sincere.

Bugger, he must have been in the Locker a long time.

The rapping on the other side of the door broke the full-blown conversation in his head. Good. He had tired of those. The ship creaked while it glided through the waters, sending him forward a few steps. Steadying himself, he stuck out his arms and practiced following the floorboards. It was an old method, back after the rumrunners carried him off that forsaken spit of land and he practically had to teach himself to walk again. He smiled at his progress. No tightrope-walking circus member could have done better…if said tightrope walker was drunk and sported a gimpy leg.

The knocking continued. Must be Gibbs. Perhaps he could lay his eyes on those charts and see how to leave this place once and for all.

"Enter," he said, arms still up and out to his sides.

They crashed back down at the sight of Elizabeth, her eyes downcast. What had been the beginnings of a healthy browning of her skin when he'd last seen her had escalated into a sunburned nose and cheeks.

"Mr. Cotton's shift is about over and he'd like you to come and take the helm," she whispered, one hand gripping the other's trembling fingers.

Jack's eyes peered over to the desk, his pistol several feet away from him.

"And?"

"And what?" He almost grinned, that fire back in her voice, challenging him to continue.

"And what does Mr. Cotton or you or anyone plan to offer to convince me any of you are worth me time and me efforts, hm? No one really made much of a plea last I addressed that point."

"Well, I suppose it suits you to be trapped with us for an eternity then?"

Damn. Damn. Damn, damn, damn!

"Seeing as how all of you needed me to return so badly, I should think you'd all prefer that to going back to the apocalypse waiting for you back in the real world." He paced around the desk, knowing he could turn his back to her for one second if it meant he could pocket that pistol.

"I'm in no position to make any demands of you," she said with a hushed voice.

"About time you figured that out." He turned to face Elizabeth, his pistol pointed straight at her. She stared it down, for once, her face unreadable to him. Come on now, Jackie, you said you would, he reminded himself. He prepared to take the shot, the click of the pistol pounding on his ears. "No fighting words this time, Miss Swann?"

Biting her lip, Elizabeth turned her neck to face the door, her whole body shivering.

Emptying the pistol and slamming it down onto the desk, he stomped over to her and backed her into the bulkhead, leaving her face inches from his.

"If ye won't fight, then tell me what I want to hear." His rings encircled her throat. "Tell me!"

Both of her hands flew up on top of his, wedging them between his fingers and her throat. Long wet strands of hair flopped over her face.

"I'm, I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry?"

"Let go of me and I'll tell you."

Blasted woman, always thinking she had the upper hand! Releasing her, she darted just out of his reach before she stood at her full height.

"I'm sorry because I never wanted to put you through that kind of pain!" she shouted, her own hand massaging the part of her throat he had squeezed.

"So then tell me, Miss Swann, why you brought me back? In case Mr. Turner faces some other kind of peril and you need your sacrificial lamb again?" He could hear his own heartbeat, each pound emitting rays of heat in him just from watching her stroke her own neck. No. He hated her. Focus now, mate! You don't love her. You hate her.

You did love her.

Well, well, I don't anymore.

Would the voices never leave him? He let his body fall against the bulkhead, closed his eyes for one second, and tried once again to wish them away.

It was the scent that made his eyes snap open, the same scent at the one that lingered on his pillow, in his sheets. He shivered at her cold fingers cupping his jaw, her lips tracing the line of the bone. They drooped down to his neck, the top of her head angled so it hovered right underneath his chin.

He could forget it ever happened. Groaning at the sensation of deliberate, warm bites, the sounds of his own body betraying him could make him forget the Locker, forget the agony before he arrived here. Breaking into a sweat, Jack could feel each bead thawing him from the inside out, those bites melting every icicle of wrath in him.

"I don't know how else to make it up to you, Jack."

Feeling the range of her kisses drop lower onto him, he craned his head back and braced himself for it, the hidden pleasure that had consumed him. Literally.

Excellent word choice there again, mate.

Make it up to you?

Scooping her up under her arms like a baby, he shoved her off of him and hurried out the door, ran up the stairs, and took the helm without a word. The parrot perched on Cotton's shoulder waddled its toes around until it faced him. The tips of its feathers brushed against his hair.

"Shiver my timbers!" it squawked.

"Mr. Cotton, start scraping the _Pearl_. I'll not have anything from this place sticking to her. Parrot…" This was always hopeless. He could look at the thing's beady black eyes and order it about. "Just…keep out of trouble like the monkey."

"Nice to see ya back wid da _Pearl_, Jack," a voice cooed behind him.

He screamed at the sight of Tia Dalma right behind him.

"Enough with that, ye tiresome witch, or I'll be seeing Mr. Gibbs' emphasis on the absence of women on ships."

"Ye could not be rid of me if ye tried." She smirked and stroked the wheel. "A fine ship it is. Course and hard she may be, but always fine."

* * *

Tia Dalma waited until the stars speckled the jet black darkness before climbing up into the _Pearl's _crow's nest. Oh yes, she spoke to them, I notice the irony that is you. Davy Jones isn't so gone yet that he fails to bring you all into sailors' hell. The rage building in her of lacking the knowledge or power, or both, to bring her Pirate Lords back to the real world tensed this human body until her thighs and arms cramped.

"I'm here as you asked, Calypso."

The outline of Mary's wings flapped against the sail, ear-splitting in the silence.

"As I knew you would be."

"Who is that?"

Tia Dalma clutched the mast and leaned over to follow Mary's long finger to the helm, the starlight catching the wine-colored shirt of William Turner.

"What ye want wid him?"

"Nothing. I just be wanting to know those you wish me to protect, is all. T'was not a whim you sent me out here, was it?"

"No. We must find a way to return dem to da world. Mary, if we stay here long, each one bound to kill da others till no one be left but me."

"Ah. A pirate ship this is then, eh? I see your worry. Aye, t'is a shame, seein' as there are bigger fish to fry, so to speak."

For a long time, neither spoke, taking in the silence of Davy Jones' world; even the rushing waves splashing against the ship sounded muted. Doldrums would most likely set in, and with them would come the clanging of swords.

"By Lucifer's beard, miss, I know the very thing!" Mary squealed into the night. "I know the very thing," she whispered. "Which one must be protected most?"

"Most? My Mary, dey all must be!" she huffed. "William Turner. Dat is da one who must leave here most." She had worked too hard, intervened into too many lives, alleviated too many circumstances to fail now, to lose Davy Jones' hand-picked successor. "You do what you must, Mary Read."

* * *

**A/N: Okay. A few things. Mary Read was a real pirate who died in 1721. In this story, she has been rescued from that fate and must serve Tia Dalma for 20 years. She is 3 years from her retirement, which sets AWE in 1738. Have a historical problem with that? Talk to the artistic license and suspension of belief hands. This has started out very dark, but it's about to take a turn for the...whimsical? I appreciate all reviews, but I do request you tell me how I'm doing with Tia Dalma. I feel I know her the least well of all the characters and since she's about to be a major player soon, I want to make sure I do her justice. Okay. There will be more to come!**

**The name of this chapter comes from Shakespeare's _The Tempest. _"Misery acquaints a man with strange befellows."**


	3. The Land of Spirits

The _Flying Dutchman _slunk through the choppy waves behind the _Endeavor, _its colors now a familiar sight to James Norrington's spyglass. Posted here, at the forecastle as smooth as coral to the touch, the faces that would appear out of it on occasion soon conditioned him to not recoil if he placed his fingers over their mouths by accident.

"He calls once more."

The slight brogue chilled James more than any pirate he had ever caught. The scaly tentacles of Davy Jones curled around the spyglass and brought it up to his eye.

"Yes. It would appear Lord Beckett has further use for you."

"This is why the sea should not belong to men to rule, Admiral Norrington. You can feel it, can't you? You can feel the seas, the rain, even the sky—all squashed together in a manmade cage," he sighed. "A grievous error."

James leaned over the railing, the brim of his hat blocking the setting sun's glare from his eyes.

"To err is human; to forgive, divine," he said with a dry laugh. He knew at least a few people that would never forgive him, if they were even alive.

"The divine cast me aside long ago," Jones said, choking on the sentence. James knew the stories, every sailor did, that an unfortunate captain by the name of Davy Jones loved the sea so much he could not leave it. Sometimes the sea in the story was a woman whom he could not possess, but it all meant the same thing. Shifting his weight to confront him on the subject, he saw Davy Jones was no longer at his side.

* * *

Will rolled down the sleeves of his shirt, the air now nipping at the hairs on his arms. With only the most subtle of winds, he had assumed the Locker's temperature was stagnant, forever sweltering from a blazing sun. A few of the men on the deck below burrowed into their coats. The group of men in the corner gutting fish paused in their work to put on gloves, Elizabeth next to them and accepting an extra pair.

He bit the insides of his cheeks at the sight of her smoothing down the fingers of the gloves to fit her small hands. Had they shared any words these last two months besides a "watch out" or an "over here," he would have been comfortable enough to tease her, to call down to her and mock the little girl wearing her father's clothes.

But according to her, she could no longer be trusted and so kept her distance from anyone who spoke enough English to understand just what Jack had accused her of…which had been proven by her confession.

"Why is the air getting colder?" he asked Barbossa, the charts rolled up and tucked under his arm.

"More worried about them white horses on the water I'd be if I were you, Mr. Turner," Barbossa said, pointing to the foaming sea.

"Why, look at that tempest forming up in the clouds ahead. Nasty weather approaching, mark my words." Will rolled his eyes at Jack's attempt at distraction, managing to catch a glimpse of him trying to sneak the charts out from Barbossa. Before he could even give them a tug, Barbossa turned back to both of them.

"Ever rain while you was here, Jack?"

"Mightn't be so parched all the time if it had." Jack held out a full bottle to the both of them.

"Take the helm, one of you. Someone has to figure out those charts." Will snatched the charts and unfolded them on the stairs. The grass-like paper swiveled in several circles, each one rotating a separate way, reminding him of gears in a clock. Each circle boasted vivid, autumnal colors, the names and symbols blending the geography of the world as Will knew it right into the mythical.

"Watch it there," Jack stood over him, draping his coat over his arms. The makeshift tent covered the charts, protecting them from the pitter-patter of spiky raindrops plopping down on them. "Tempest coming, should have listened to me."

Will shook his head at him and glanced back down at the charts.

"Ye want to hand that over and let an actual captain examine those?"

"Oh, you're captaining the ship now?" Will raised his eyebrows at his own remark, the harshness of it undeserved. "Here."

Jack knelt down next to him, his arms propping the coat up over both their heads, the charts splayed out between them. The raindrops drizzled off the edges of the coat and down underneath the collar of their shirts. Twitching at the icy drops, Will caught out of the corner of his eye a flash of white. He blinked several times, the image of wings coming to mind, along with an outline, an outline of a human, so pale and faint it was no stronger than the colors reflected off a pearl.

"Did you see that?" he breathed at the same time Jack blurted, "I've got it!"

Blinking the rain out of his eyelashes, Will snorted the image out of his mind.

"Sunset," Jack said. "We wait until sunset, we leave the Locker. Of course, all we have to do is capsize the ship…"

"Why does that not surprise me?" Barbossa called down to them from the helm. There was a pause, and Will swore he could hear Barbossa gnashing his teeth. "Good thinking, lad."

"Up is down." Jack pointed at the blotchy letters formed when two of the circles matched up exactly. "Don't look so distressed, William. Leaving the Locker means, well, leaving the Locker. I'm at a loss as of right now to make it any clearer to you, although rest assured…"

"Did you see a flash of white just now, through the rain?" Will leaned backward to catch a glimpse of the sky past the ebony sails of the _Pearl. _Enormous gray clouds loomed over them, the rain exploding out of them.

"White flash?" Gibbs squatted down between them, holding up a blanket over his own head. "I heard of the green flash. Wasn't green was it?"  
"This was…" Will started, his lips drying at how stupid he must have sounded to Gibbs and Jack. Barbossa was probably leaning over the helm, one hand up to his ear, to hear the latest insipient thing Will Turner would say. And all of a sudden he cared what pirates thought of him? Like it or not, you're one of them and have been for some time, he said to himself, catching the biting words he might have barked out at them at his own frustration. "This was a feathery white, like wings."

"Holy Virgin!" Gibbs crossed himself. "An albatross!"

"An albatross in the Locker?" Barbossa called down to them. Will clucked at his prediction coming true. He'd been at sea too long with the man not to know him.

"Mustn't kill it! T'is bad luck!" Gibbs sprang up and clamored down the stairs. "Albatross, men! Keep your hungry eyes on the fish below!"

"That's not what it was," Will whispered to himself. Standing, he looked out at the horizon. The waves rolled under the _Pearl_ in time with the bellowing thunder. Thunder? The sails flapping behind him seemed to tremble at the sound. A howling wind accompanied.

"Brace the foreyard!" Barbossa shouted, throwing his voice over the storm. The crew scampered every which way on the deck, the climbing waves wiping their legs out from under them. Will scanned the deck for Elizabeth, exhaling only when he saw her flailing arms hoist her to her feet, water up to her knees. Half stomping, half swimming her way to the stairs, he clung to the railing to make his way down to her, but at the last second, she turned and threw her arms over the railing.

One of the crewmen's legs dangled over the side of the ship. Elizabeth had his arms, two other men joining her in fighting the rapid current to pull him back. Behind him, he could hear sloshing footsteps.

"Hard to starboard!" he could hear Jack's voice crack. Absolutely wonderful, Will thought, perfect time for the two of them to argue over captaincy. He turned his neck with slow jerks to accommodate the wind. To his right, the murky shadow of a land mass peeked through the curtain of icy rain. The silhouettes of craggy hills in the distance told him it was not the desert wasteland where they had found Jack.

"Hard to starboard!" Will repeated, plunging down to the soaking deck. The _Pearl _jerked towards the island. He looked back long enough to see Jack's steady hands now on the helm, guiding his ship through the lurching waters. The current seemed on their side, at least.

"William! Keep the crew away from the anchor! No one is to drop that down. Lizzie, shoot anyone what tries to get to the longboats!"

A looming wave crashed down onto the _Black Pearl_, almost capsizing her. Batting the salt out of his eyes, Will opened his eyes underwater, paddling back up to the surface, still on the ship. The deck seemed emptier now, probably more than a few members of the crew thrown from the ship. He batted his eyelashes to keep out the salt water, paddling back up to the surface. That one had been even higher.

Will raced the panicking men to the anchor, knowing full well Jack meant to beach the ship to keep her out of the water. Prying their hands off it, he unsheathed his sword, clutching the railing with his free hand. The hull of the ship scraped against the sea floor, land ever closer to them. Something tugged at him, though, something more nerve-wrenching than preparing to make a haven out of uncharted land.

He'd called her Lizzie.

* * *

"Charts? They came to see you for charts?"

He had watched Mr. Mercer do this so many times. Sao Feng, famed pirate, Lord, even, only flinched at the riding crop whipping the sensitive scars on the back of his head.

"Mr. Mercer, Mr. Feng refuses to answer my question. Perhaps we need a stronger method of persuasion?"

Beckett held the fire poker out to Mercer, each line and crater on the brute's face turning upward into a sadistic smile.

"He promised me my revenge! Enough!" Sao Feng launched out his hand, his waist tied to the chair. "You do not need that."

"Doesn't mean I don't want it," Mercer said, sneering at him.

"Hold on, Mr. Mercer. Let's hear him tell us why we don't need to provide him an incentive?"

It was only one more scene Governor Swann had witnessed in the last few days, Beckett's idea of a reprieve after signing, approving, endorsing every last one of his constricting policies.

"Please, Lord Beckett, even a horrid pirate shouldn't have to endure this." He locked eyes with Sao Feng, sprawled out on the floor of Beckett's cabin. The long crisscrossed scars surrounding his head like a crown of thorns captured Swann's gaze. Lord only knew how many Elizabeth now had. Of course the poor girl lived for that sort of thing, he thought with a smile. She would consider each one a trophy. Thoughts of Elizabeth puffed up his chest and straightened his back. "The ways of England would demand he face a jury."

"A jury, Governor Swann?" Beckett's eyes hardened to ice. "Mr. Mercer, we know now Mr. Turner and company are either on their way to Singapore or are already there. Shall we now try Sao Feng in court?"

For once, Mercer cocked his head in bewilderment to Beckett. Taking the ruddy, slippery heart out of the satchel he now always kept on his person, he held it in his palm, the crevices and ventricles hanging between his fingers. Before Swann's eyes, nine of Davy Jones' coral men appeared lined up in the cabin. Sao Feng crawled backwards on his elbows.

"That's nine, and Mr. Mercer, you and the Governor and I make twelve and we're all agreed the filth crawling on my ship is a pirate. We haven't any gallows to hang him from. Ah. I have it!"

It was the first time Swann witnessed Lord Beckett produce his own pistol and fire it right into someone's face.

* * *

Elizabeth woke from something gritty hitting her eyelids. Between each fluttering of her eyelashes, she could make out nothing but white in front of her. Squinting, she tried lifting her head. Every muscle from the base of her neck to the top of her head tensed. She could feel every grain of sand on her lips, on her eyes, in her hair. She slithered in the surf to bring her legs out of the water. Staggering to her feet, she cradled her head. Shivering, she gathered her arms into her chest, teeth chattering. The last thing she remembered, a blinding green wave scathed up over the _Pearl_'s railing.

Washed overboard onto a spit of land. Her legs wobbled underneath her, still quaking from the current even though she now stood on land. Bringing her hand to her eyes, she looked out into the sea for any signs of the _Pearl._

Of course not. Not one soul on that ship would think she was worth rescuing. A distressing damsel, Jack had called her. Devoid of everyone's trust and affection, she would be left here, left to die.

And who did that sound like?  
Just beginning to revel in her own purgatory, she spotted two silhouettes approaching her from the far side of the beach, a sharp contrast to the white sand.

"Why, it's poppet!"

"Hello?" Ragetti waved his limber, willowy arms at her. "Weather's let up a bit, hasn't it?"

Those two. She cringed at the nickname, but grinned at them. They ran over to her like enthusiastic children, probably expecting her to know what to do.

"It's still cold," she said, answering Ragetti's question first.

"Where's the _Pearl_?" he asked, nothing but innocence and confusion in his eye.

"Probably where she was when we fell out of her and washed up here." She gazed once more out into the ocean, praying to see the black sails out on the horizon coming for her. Maybe the captain would begrudgingly allow her passage. She could just see Jack's eyes rolling before grunting how she was nothing but trouble and if he had any sense at all, he would have left her here. For some reason, the thoughts made her smile in spite of the desperate situation.

"Oh, no, Miss Elizabeth, not the _Pearl_," Ragetti said, shaking his head in a violent passion. "Cap'n wouldn't leave us."

"Might leave you, but not us," Pintel added. "No offense."

"Why should I take offense?" she growled.

"Maybe the ship's washed up. That's how she was the last time we found her, Ragetti and me. We was just sittin' away in our little rowboat when all of a sudden we got this feeling that Jack needed us and then there was the _Black Pearl _in all her glory waitin' for us, ya see, and we just had to release the lines and give her an old shove back out to sea."

"You had a feeling Jack needed us then?" Ragetti asked.

"Hush, you." Pintel resumed his regular volume. "So there we was, miss, and not only did we rescue Captain Jack, but Mr. Turner as well! Captain owes us one, he does."

Rolling her eyes, Elizabeth limped further up the beach. Her left leg pounded every time she stepped down on it.

"Miss Elizabeth, what do you think about at least searching the island?"

"Mr. Pintel, you sound like you're a natural at this sort of thing," she said, bracing her leg and following them into the brush, shaking her head at how familiar this all was now, being washed up on a deserted island with no one but pirates for company.

* * *

**A/N: The idea of an albatross being a bad omen is officially from _Rime of the Ancient Mariner _by Coleridge in 1798, but according to several former English teachers, the symbolism is much older than that. But then since when does the POTC series have an actual year attached to it? Lol. The chapter title is also from Coleridge. Fun things are ahead, lots of fun, dark, sexy, action-packed things. Please leave a review! I do not own POTC, but if I had to describe this fic in a way that implied I did, I would say it's _The Tempest _meets _The Odyssey _meets _Three's Company. _Do with that what you will.**


	4. I Sing of Arms and of a Man

Tia Dalma hurried below decks, the _Pearl _lying on her side on the beach.

"Mary! Mary, ye hear me when I summon ya."

"Glad to see you're still one of the ones on board."

"What are ye dinking, girl? I tole ya ta watch over dis crew and you toss 'em all overboard!"

"Nay, not all of 'em, Calypso. I made sure to keep that spry one on board. Not to worry. He got the spirit of a leader, he does. He'll see 'em all to safety, Will Turner. I 'spect he saw me, though, got the crew a might worked up. You was sayin' how they'll all kill each other so I had it in mind to send this tempest, blow 'em all over the place. They'll collect each other and be so thankful to be alive they'll forget all about whatever ails them. Make no mistake, Calypso, them what's on this island'll have a change of heart."

Tia Dalma sighed, remembering for all her pirating experience, Mary still somehow managed to be so childlike at times. A well-meaning little angel who never shied from cleaning her own messes.

"Mary, little ye know bout dis crew. Now I need to go back up and calm da rest."

"What do you need from Mary then?" she asked, hands behind her back, hovering above the steps.

"You. You watch dem dat braves the island."

* * *

"Well, somethin' tells me we won't be capsizing the ship at sunset." Barbossa stomped down the deck's steps, the charts rolled up in his fist. Will watched him squint his glare at the remaining crew. Over half had to be washed away somewhere, if not on this island, then…

"Barbossa, can we die in the Locker?" He cringed at the question, remembering seeing the man shoot one of his own just to see if their curse had been lifted.

"Davy Jones only keeps ya alive if he wants, which means we best not be countin' on that luxury. Can't say for certain, though. We ain't playin' by his rules no more. Ya see, Jones likes to keep thing stagnant—no storms, no waves, no bloody cold spells. Mister Gibbs!"

"Aye?" Gibbs bounded towards them, now in a long coat.

"Where did you find a coat?"

"We've got loads of 'em here, didn't think the Locker would take those, seein' how it mended the main cabin and all."

Will's hands flew up to his face, his fingers pressing into his scalp. Without saying another word, he stormed down into the hull and emerged moments later with his arms full of coats of all lengths and materials. The men ran to them, dripping wet and numb from the cold. Almost trampling him, they threw off their shirts and wrapped themselves up in the coats, thanking him in several languages for them.

"Now that no one else here is going to die of exposure," he scolded the rest of them, "we need a plan."

"Where be the witch?" Gibbs asked. The three of them turned their heads every which way.

"A fine name comin' from you," Tia Dalma said from right behind Barbossa. "I tot maybe Barbossa would at least be smart enough to defend my honor."

Will thought he caught Barbossa's bottom lip quiver, perhaps at the thought of being dead again. On top of everything-- Elizabeth, tempests, freezing temperatures, and imagined albatrosses, he did not need one of the last men left standing to be killed just because of her vanity.

"All right. This looks like the only place anyone tossed overboard would have ended up. I say we search it, gather everyone back here, and press on from there. We may not be able to leave this sunset, but it looks like there will be plenty of food to be found." He stepped over to the edge of the ship. "You men, stay on the ship." Tia Dalma repeated the order to them. They nodded their heads while Will silently pleaded with Cotton and Marty. They nodded back to him, assuring him the ship would still be here when they returned. "Gibbs, Barbossa? Tia Dalma." She smiled at him and winked. "You can come with us if you like."

Sashaying over to him, she bumped him with her hip and waggled a finger at Gibbs and Barbossa to follow her. No wonder Jack had said it was his front he was worried about when he was with her.

* * *

The interior of the island was hilly, jagged rocks jutting out of massive landforms between the branches of the trees. They weren't mountains, but they might as well have been, leaving only a fraction of even terrain. Elizabeth followed Pintel and Ragetti, their ramblings now background music to her. They all marched on, hunched over in cold, their movement the only thing stopping their drenched clothes from freezing them to death.

"Wait," she called to them, curving off to a row of medium-sized trees with staunch, hard trunks. Resilient sentinels, their oval leaves brushed her neck, a few greenish objects hanging lazily off of them. Pushing back one of the branches, she held it in her fingertips. "Olives," she whispered. "Olives!"

"We thought you was shoutin' for help, poppet."

"No, no, there are olives on this island. We can eat these. Here." She plucked the rest of them from the branch, handing them off to the two of them. "It must mean this place doesn't see a lot of cold." She tugged at another branch, sweeping the olives down to the ground. Gathering them in the end of her soaked shirt, she motioned for the clearing. "We'll have to get a fire going and come up with some sort of shelter."

"Fire sounds mighty fine right now," Ragetti said, rubbing his long hands together, leading them out of the brush and back onto the beach. The green choppy sea still looked uninviting.

Scanning the long narrow strip of sand, she felt like a hand squeezed her heart into pulp. The olives went flying as she broke into a sprint.

Pintel and Ragetti soon saw it too, racing into the cold surf to find Jack on his stomach, eyes closed and a magnificent cut running along the side of his face.

"Jack? Jack!" she shrieked, her forearms tensed parallel to the ground, too paralyzed to touch him.

"Blimey, he's freezing cold," Pintel gasped when he and Ragetti dragged him out onto the dry sand.

"Warm him up!" Elizabeth screamed. They only cocked their heads at her. "I know how it's done. Warm him up! Both of you, take off your clothes and hold him!"

"What?"

"Do it!"

Neither moved a muscle. She drew out her pistol, the fire in her eyes giving the rest of her a few seconds of unbridled heat. Pointing it right at them, she noticed a droplet of water crash to the ground from it. Bloody thing probably didn't even work, she thought, before remembering she was dealing with Pintel and Ragetti. The heat left her as quickly as it came, the metal of the pistol chilling her fingers.

"Miss Elizabeth, do be reasonable."

"I am being more than reasonable! He'll die! Take his clothes off and make him warm!" She took a step forward, her lips curled back in a menacing sneer. "Don't make me tell you again."

They bent down, out of her line of sight. She hoped they were doing what she told them since she was keeping her eyes zeroed in on the clouds above, black and enormous with no sign of clearing.

"Miss Elizabeth?" Ragetti asked.

"What?"

"Seein' as how there's three of us, could you build us a fire?"

She about dropped the pistol with the speed her shoulder slumped. All she could do was bite her lip, her mind wondering just how angry with herself she ought to be. For two straight months, she had steered a ship, charted courses, mended sails, heaved nets of fish onto the deck, gutted them, cooked them, and ran her sword through anyone that had stood in their way…and she still didn't know how to make a fire? Still? Her second time being marooned and she didn't know how to make a fire? Wasn't that the key ingredient to being human, the act that separated them from the animals? And here she found out it only separated her from Pintel and Ragetti.

"Do, do one of you know how to?"

"Sure do, Miss Elizabeth, and I'd be very happy to make one." Ragetti sprung up before she could avert her eyes, but there was no need. Only their shirts and boots were off, lying in a slushy pile off to the side.

"I'll, I'll leave you to it then," she stuttered, realizing what would have to come next. At least this way she would be more than dead weight. "Right over there, where you can see us. Don't…don't watch me."

"No one's looking at ye, poppet," Pintel yelled up to her. "I'd be much obliged if you took the front, though. Got a feeling I'd be more comfortable back here."

Forcing herself to look down, she saw Pintel had positioned himself behind Jack, his chest wedged onto his back, an arm awkwardly bent over Jack's waist so as not to touch any skin but not rest on anything below his belt. A last bit of English modesty tapped on her brain before she unbuttoned her vest and threw it into the clothes pile. She actually felt a few degrees warmer removing her shirt. It clung to her head, having suddenly gained the weight of a house, but she pulled it off and flung herself onto the ground in one swift motion. In nothing but her trousers, she scooted into Jack, using his chest to conceal her bare breasts.

"Can I look now?" Ragetti asked.

"Very well," she sighed, kicking her boots off and setting her head down on Jack, covering him as much as she could. When he woke up and saw her, he'd kill her for sure, she thought, but it wouldn't matter. All that mattered now was that he lived.

"A bit ridiculous, ain't it, poppet, someone as skinny as yourself providing warmth?"

"Decidedly ridiculous," she said, smiling at Pintel's voice. Without him, it would be too much like lying naked with Jack on a private beach, and the thought of that…stirred her.

"Come on, Jack," she whispered to him, braving the impropriety enough to graze the side of his face with her fingers, avoiding his cut. "Don't die. Wake up. Wake up now."

* * *

**A/N: "I sing of arms and of a man" comes from _The Aeneid. _Please let me know if it's not clear that this is a big island and everyone is on different ends of it. Please read and review! I updated fairly quickly. Don't get used to it! I'm so anxious to post what all I've already written. The gist of it is, they are still in the Locker, but there is more to it. I figure it would change depending upon Davy's mood/Beckett's control. Think of the desert we see in the movie as only a part of it. They've sailed and ended up on a very large, very wild island. I hope that was clear. Also, this is a little bit on the quirky side for me, so love it or think it a cheese-fest, let me know!**


	5. The Steps They Trod

"I sense some-ding," Tia Dalma said, freezing in mid-step in a sort of trance, the prominent blood vessels in her eyes expanding. "Dere is another boat here."

"Another boat?" Gibbs repeated. "Sorry lot, windin' up here. How close?"

"Close, dey are."

Will inhaled, running on ahead to clamor up a small bluff. Just the texture of grass underneath his boots instead of a wooden deck or sand calmed his nerves, allowing him to think. It wouldn't be hard to tell if the boat was full of allies or enemies once it came near enough for them to spot it, but if they were indeed enemies, that would be too close.

He made a half-circle on top of the mound to face into the vast wilderness ahead of them. Somewhere, Elizabeth was in there. He would find her, rescue her one more time, well, make the attempt to rescue her one more time, and then break the news to her once they were both safe, both warm, both preoccupied with something other than mere survival. He would tell her about the choice he would have to make once they returned to the real world. He had no idea why, but he dreaded facing her more than breaking the news to her.

A white substance caught the corner of his eye, much like the time before, but when he snapped his head in its direction, it disappeared.

"Tia Dalma," he said. "What sort of creatures might…"

"She's gone!" Barbossa blurted.

"What happened? She was down there with you two!"

"Ain't but turned me head for one second and she was gone, boy," Barbossa barked back. "If ye know the secret to controlin' a witch such as she, better be sharing them details thusly."

"What if she went to find that boat?" Gibbs offered. "Might be a good thing she's gone, finding help."

"We're the one with the charts," Will sighed, running back down to them. "We'll be the ones to act as help."

"Aye, well, do we keep lookin' or go back to the ship?"

Will shrugged. "At this point, we might as well go on. Something's in those woods there. I saw it."

The three of them traipsed into the overgrown, uneven brush. The trees were so tall in some areas hardly any sunlight reached its way down to them, leaving them in long patches of dusk, which made it even colder.

"I wish it would warm up," Will mouthed, hating to complain in front of the others. Compared to men like Barbossa and Gibbs, his own life had been a tame one, learning a trade that could get him by, honest work. The two of them…maybe only Jack would know about all the skirmishes and bad luck they'd run into over the years. A ray of sunshine broke through the tree line and encased his whole body in a warm brightness.

"I think you got your wish, Will," Gibbs said in an eerie tone, removing his coat. "It ain't even cold anymore."

Will and Barbossa followed suit, removing their coats.

"It went from winter to spring in an instant."

"Foul magic afoot. Could use the likes of Tia Dalma now," Barbossa mumbled.

"Hello there."

Everyone tensed; only their eyes moving, darting to and fro to find the source of the voice, the female voice, which just greeted them.

"Hello?" Will tried.

"Hungry?"

Will bit the inside of his cheeks. On the one hand, it was no more unusual than finding a body with its face sucked clean off by a kraken or a crew of undead pirates, but then, to not see something—that seemed to always be worse.

"I've laid out a table for ye, gentlemen, filled to the brim with all that'll make your mouth water, to be sure."

"Who are ye?" Barbossa tried next.

"How's that then? Ye be askin' such weird questions lookin' like chicks with their heads cut off and who am I, ye ask. What's it matter when there's food, asks I? Just stay on the path, lads. Stay together. Ye can't miss it."

"I'm not so sure I dare." Gibbs baby-stepped to Will. "Not that I don't fear for all them what's lost out here, but headin' back towards the ship starts sounding more and more tempting by my way of thinking."

"I don't think it means us any harm," Will said in a staged whisper, hoping to arouse the voice's eagerness. But there was nothing more. They all looked at each other and simultaneously continued their trek. Wondering if it had anything to do with the ship Tia Dalma sensed, Will shoved his hands into his pocket, his coat strewn over his arm. Even his pockets were dry. Such a simple pleasure almost formed a grin on his face. "If you can still hear us and you had anything to do with getting rid of the cold…thank you."

"Er, yes, thankee," Barbossa muttered, nudging Gibbs.

"Oh, yes. Thank ye so very much."

* * *

Governor Swann and James Norrington helped pull each other to their feet. Dusting each other off, they spun back around to look at the ocean. Calm, crystalline water that had only moments ago been an icy green. Of course there would be no ship, James thought. It was only Beckett's way of getting rid of us without dirtying his hands.

"I don't suppose your compass would work here, would it?" Swann asked. He looked so, not small, but…James pursed his lips…approachable without his wig, like a regular man, a bit like some tailor or cobbler's grandfather that would sit on a barrel outside a shop and tell stories to the children.

"No. We'll find a way out, sir. I can promise you that." Erasing all doubt from his tone exhausted him. He had protested loading the late Sao Feng's personal effects onto the ship, but Beckett insisted, and it was all James could do to stand there and watch the men carry the plunder onboard. Pillaging, the East India Trading Company and the Royal Navy pillaging. How similar the hunters and the hunted now seemed to be. The charts had looked particularly dubious, but at the point of a pistol, he and Governor Swann got into that longboat and headed straight for the falls. That was the last thing he could remember, besides Mr. Mercer sneering at them. "You want to find the little lady so bad, we won't stop you."

"Stay here," James said. "I'll pull some branches out for a fire."

"If you don't mind, I'd like to come with you. I may not be much help on a ship, but I do have two arms for a reason."

James smiled, the muscles finally being used. He didn't used to think the governor and Elizabeth had much in common, but their stubbornness soon remedied that false assumption, as did their enthusiasm.

"Very well. Watch your step, though. This terrain seems a little hillier than Port Royal."

"Ah, Port Royal, how I miss being there."

"We all do, sir. We all do. I think I see some olive trees up ahead, though. Our luck's not completely out."

They cleaned a few branches of them, filling them into James' hat. The sun almost beat down on them now, but its position told James however the days worked here, this one would end soon. He wasn't sure if he liked the notion of Elizabeth being here. True, it would be a joyful reunion for her and her father, but if she was here, what hope could the two of them give her? If anything, she would know more about getting out than they would if she didn't run a sword through him first.

"Do you suppose Will will also be here?"

"I was just pondering that myself," James lied. "I hope so. I think seeing Mr. Turner's face would do Mr. Turner Senior a great deal of good, help him remember himself. It's ghastly to go down in that brig, sir, and see them. The poor man speaks of two things: his son and becoming a part of the ship. Pirate or not, that is absolutely heartbreaking to have to listen to…Governor Swann?"

He was alone.

* * *

**A/N: Short chapter, I know, but that is why you are getting a treat and I am posting two chapters tonight. I do not own POTC. The chapter title is a quote from Aristophanes, who I am liking more and more. The full quote is, "Your lost friends are not dead but gone before, advanced a stage or two upon that road which you must travel in the steps they trod."**


	6. She Intrigued Beyond All Limits

Jack woke without opening his eyes, the sensation of sunlight tapping on his eyelids enough to wake him. Cold. That was the last thing he had remembered. Not so much now, he thought, only half-awake. Adjusting his head a little, he wrinkled his nose at something like hair veiling his face. He took his time opening his eyes, still sore from…from, bugger. All that he could remember was being cold.

Eyes finally opened, he snapped them shut and opened them again at the sight of Elizabeth's face right next to his, sleeping. Sleeping topless.

Without thinking, he pulled her back to him, concealing most of her body with his. What had happened? Tempted to pat her hair out of her face and wake her, he instead found himself wrapping his arms around her tiny waist. It was the first time he had seen her sleep and he rather liked it, her face relaxed without all the burdens she must have carried with her ever since she came to him in Tortuga and he had seen fit to let her borrow his compass, like she was finally indulging in a much-earned rest. He didn't dare move. One flinch could kill the moment. Instead he gazed at her, at a few loose strands of her hair painted over her face, at those luscious lips slightly parted, almost pleading with him to touch.

You love her, mate, despite everything, don't you?

He didn't even want to think about that, so tired of plotting and contemplating and confiding in himself. Lord, her waist was small. Only here, he smirked. Only here could he go from freezing to waking up with a half-naked Lizzie in his arms. To progress from hellish to heavenly could make one grow used to such a place.

"Cap'n! You're up."

Or not.

"We thought we might lose you again."

Jack cranked his neck, his eyes wide at the sound of Pintel's voice so close. Sure enough, there was a fleshy, shirtless Pintel beaming at him with jaundiced eyes.

Scrambling out of his sandwiched position, Jack leapt to his feet and backed away several feet. He felt only a twinge of guilt for jolting Elizabeth awake, watching her wordlessly crawl to her shirt with her arm over her breasts. Not sure where to look, he caught from the corner of his eye Ragetti waving to him from a large bonfire.

"Good to see ye, Captain! Olive?"

"What the bloody hell am I looking at?" he yipped out loud, his eyes searching frantically for his own shirt. Unable to even breathe, he grappled with it, slapping it every which way until it was no longer inside out, and threw it on over his head. Dry. Of course it should be dry. Sun was out, was it not? That was the event that made the most sense as of late.

"Now don't get excited, Jack," Pintel said, holding out his arms to give him enough leverage to stand. "Would have caught your death of cold had we not come by."

"That's true, Cap'n. It was like right bloody cold not too long ago." Ragetti nodded. "Olive?"

His arms rigid, a migraine in the works, he marched into the woods, letting out an earsplitting groan. Come on, Jackie-boy, he thought in his father's voice, snap out of it. Wake up. His hands flew to the sides of his face, tapping and tapping as if they were debating whether he deserved a good slap or not. They traced the cut along the side of his face. Bugger. Bugger, bugger, bugger, bugger!

"All right," he said, closing his eyes, his arms stretching up and over the back of his head. Think. The _Pearl _was nowhere in sight, as usual, meaning he was not at the helm of said vessel, much as he wanted to be, and he distinctly remembered being at the helm of his _Pearl. _Therefore something had torn him from her, a wave. That's right. There had been a squall out here, a cold one at that, which would explain the fact he had felt cold and thusly eliminate all possibilities except the one that involved being thrown from the ship and washing up on the exact island he had tried to beach the _Pearl _on. Taking into account that scenario, the ship should be nearby, stranded somewhere waiting for him. But he couldn't have gone to it at the time because according to that one-eyed child-man he had been freezing to death…which brings us to you deciding to have a breakdown alone in an overgrown forest, he thought, dropping his arms to his sides. The mental retracing of his steps had slowed his heartbeat enough.

So, here he stood. _If after every tempest come such calms/May the winds blow till they have waken'd death! _He had had his shirt off in front of his crew before. Blazing suns and no shade will do that from time to time, but this time felt absolutely violated at the same time he felt that he had violated her.

Coming after him, well, he could hand-wave that. Coming back to get him was the least she could do considering it was her pernicious, seductive…impressive…manipulation that wound him here in the first place, all to uplift her guilt. But just now…did he owe her now for such an action? It seemed like that was the gist of their relationship, a constant back-and-forth of playing with each other's lives…when they weren't removing each other's clothing, that is.

So to join them or not to join them—that was the question.

"Jack?"

Her shirt untucked and uncovered by a vest, it fell right in the middle of her hips and her knees. Brave to the last. He'd give her that. He wouldn't have followed him into the brush after carrying on like that.

"Would you join us? It's going to be dark soon." Shame filled her eyes, her voice still timid around him. Her foot shuffled into the earth, kicking up a little of it. "It's not much, but we have some food and the fire may be a beacon for the crew to come get us."

"I wager you'd know best about that," Jack said, cringing at his own attempt to give her a coy answer. It hadn't been all that long ago they'd been able to flirt and even though she was just as unattainable then as she was now, he still much preferred that. Recalling the last time they were marooned together, the scolding, self-righteousness tone in her voice when she bluntly stated that there was more than good enough reason to burn the rum, he tightened his mouth into a slim smile.

"Does that mean you'll come out?" Elizabeth asked, and he had to force himself to stay angry with her. Her question sounded more like begging, "please don't leave me alone with Pintel and Ragetti." No, he had to admit, he wouldn't inflict that kind of punishment on her.

"Only if it means those two remain modestly clothed." She twitched, stifling a laugh, her mouth scrunching up to stay somber.

"I think I can arrange that," she said, a spark growing in her eyes, along with something else he couldn't place, which unsettled him. For a brief second, he thought it might be fear, but he had seen too many pairs of eyes express fear towards him, none of which belonged to his Lizzie. See, if that's kind of phrasing that lands you up in trouble, mate. He followed her back out to the campfire.

"Olive?" he heard when they exited the brush.

* * *

They found the tent just as a full moon and a billion stars glittered above them. A lush dusty purple tent, the table in it had slices of carved meat lying out on platters, trays of breads of all textures, bowls of potatoes, corn, tropical fruit, buttered carrots. Long-stemmed goblets of red wine stood at the back of the table, a stack of ivory plates and silverware next to them.

"Ye don't suppose somethin's fattening us up, do ye?" Gibbs whispered.

Will paced the perimeter of the table, his fingertips tracing the edges. His stomach roared at the sight of the food, food that wasn't fished out of the sea, but out of a palace's kitchen, everything baked and fried and chopped with a servant's diligence. Sniffing the faint aroma of honey when he hovered over the dinner rolls, he plunked one up and placed the whole thing in his mouth, letting the taste melt inside him before beginning to chew. Gulping it down, he picked up another one.

"Well, can't say I be patient enough to wait for Mr. Turner to die, so…" Barbossa trailed off, harvesting a plate and utensils and piling up what looked like beef on his plate. Gibbs followed, dipping a roll into one of the wine glasses.

"Fit for kings it is. The voice was right."

Will stopped sucking on the peach he had found and bent his head to peer out of the tent's entrance. Nothing followed them in, no hint of anyone being with them or having been with them. Keeping his eyes on the entrance, he sank to the ground and crossed his legs to keep his plate on his lap. Glazed ham—he hadn't even seen glazed ham since Christmas with the Swanns, several months ago before the aborted wedding, before the arrest, before voodoo women and krakens and any hope that his father might be alive. Just savor the meal, he reminded himself, shaking his head at the memories of his father on the _Dutchman_, betting what was left of his soul to save his.

They ate in silence, the only sounds being the tinkling of the forks against the plates and all the thuds and dings that came with getting up for seconds and thirds.

"Pity Jack ain't here to partake," Gibbs said, wiping his chin with a napkin. "Be a hard-earned reward for everyone."

He and Barbossa only nodded, more like animals in their thinking than they would have liked to admit. Pick up. Chew. Swallow. Drink. That was about all they could muster.

"Enjoyin' the fixings, are ye?"

Will swallowed, choking on a bean.

"Yes. Yes. It's been so long since we've had this much to eat," he said to the voice. "Thank you. Is, is there anything you ask of us?" He held his breath, knowing full well there had to be. Pirates never did anything unless they had something to gain. Change the subject. "Who are you?"

"Mary."

The three men exchanged glances. Mary? They shook their heads, no Mary ever cropping up in any of their adventures or any stories they might have overheard one night in a pub.

"Thank you, Mary," Will said. "We greatly appreciate this."

"Mary," Barbossa began. "We been lookin' for members of our crew for some time now, even had one in our party what disappeared on us. Might ye be knowin' where we need to look to find them?"

"Everyone is safe as they would be in their mothers' arms."

"Well, that is good to know," Gibbs said, more to Will and Barbossa than to Mary. "Are ye a ghost, good lady? Is that why we can't see ye?"

"T'would be simpler if I were," Mary giggled. "Ye can't see me because I choose not to be seen. No need to fret about your friends, even the ones here ye don't know are here. Just eat up now, rest. It's when you return to your world's when the big challenges'll come. Well, I bid thee good night."

"Mary? Mary?" Silence.

"Friends we don't know are here, what the devil does that mean?" Barbossa exhaled before taking a sip of wine.

"It must be allies in the ship Tia Dalma mentioned before," Will thought out loud. He shifted back on the ground, his tailbone hitting something soft. He turned to find tasseled pillows behind him, each one the size of a small child and of a scarlet velvet. All he could do was hold one up and wait for the others to eye it, their mouths agape in confusion. "Obviously it won't be cold enough to need blankets," he joked, trying to settle his own nerves. He breathed a sigh of relief when no blankets magically appeared before them.

* * *

**A/N: Jack quotes from _Othello _in this chapter. I hope you enjoyed his little freak-out. I'm not so comfortable with the unintentionally funny side of Jack, so if you laughed...good. Feel free to do that. This is a fun fic, after all. Ragetti constantly offering Jack an olive is a homage to _O Brother, Where Art Thou_, itself a homage to _The Odyssey _in which Tim Blake Nelson keeps offering George Clooney gopher meat...don't ask. "Intrigued beyond all limits" is a quote from _The Odyssey _describing Penelope. "Not one could equal Penelope for intrigue, but in this case she intrigued beyond all limits." Don't own the series, the large-eared mouse does.**


	7. Fire Ascends Brightest Heavens

James scoured the brush, shouting out Governor Swann's name. Unsheathing his sword, he swiped at a few low-hanging branches, hurrying back out onto the beach. Already night time, an array of stars was all that greeted him, no sign of Swann or anyone else. Lowering his head, he kicked at a mound of sand, the white grains clinging to his boot. The hem of his long royal blue coat rustled from a slight breeze. Well, he thought, best start a fire. Maybe wherever Governor Swann had gone off to, he would see the smoke. Backtracking to snap off one of the flimsier branches, he carried it to a flat area and started undoing his bootlace.

Whittling a second stick's end to a sharp point, one question kept occupying his mind—were they alone on this island in this strange middle of nowhere? The mere fact it existed implied that others were here, others that had just paid a visit to Sao Feng for the charts.

What a desperate woman Elizabeth had turned out to be, he thought, trying to picture her in one of Sao Feng's bathhouses and failing miserably. The citizens of Port Royal would surely turn on her if they learned half of her story, he thought, snorting at the shallow memories of the two of them like fish out of water at banquets, proceedings, festivals. He remembered the first ball he had needed to go to, asking permission to take Elizabeth just for his own security. On his arm, she had literally pulled him into society, never shying away from a debate or a dance. The men ignored her occasional breaches of etiquette because she was so beautiful and women ignored them because they found her charming. True, her sense of politics was skewed, but it nevertheless made her a knowledgeable conversation partner.

It was now time to cause friction. He closed his eyes, praying for a spark of fire. After a few tries, a small but formidable fire pattered against the breeze. James nodded at it. The flames curled higher into the air, a haze of black smoke contorting around it. Swann would have to see that, wherever he had gone.

Scooting closer to the fire, James held out his palms and warmed his dry hands, filled with deep scratches now. But they already had blood on them, had to have, after taking that heart from everyone and dropping it down in front of Beckett's face. Maybe he and Elizabeth both had become desperate people.

"James."

He glanced behind him, expecting to see a shadow running up to the fire, but no one walked up the beach and no one emerged from the woods.

"Hello?"

"James." His name blew with the draft, whistling past his ears and out to the horizon.

"Governor Swann?"

He shivered in spite of his face reddening from the heat of the fire. The wind brushed past him once more, and then the night fell silent.

* * *

"That ain't how you play Mancala!" Pintel shoved Ragetti with enough force to drive him to the ground. "Tell him, Jack."

"Mr. Pintel wishes to inform you, Mr. Ragetti, that even in a modified version of Mancala, it is considered most abhorrent to go twice in a row."

"I just thought seein' as how I dug the little dips," he stuttered, gesturing to the two rows of three divots, a larger divot on each side, representing a Mancala board. "I might be entitled to some benefits."

Elizabeth shook her head while it rested on her knees. Their fire behind them, they had gathered seashells at Ragetti's suggestion they play Mancala to pass the time. It was a good suggestion, she had to admit, until he gave in to the temptation to go a second time and incur Pintel's wrath. It was like playing with children, but she ignored his argument and resumed the game with her turn, gathering up the seashells out of one of the divots.

"Where exactly are we?" Pintel asked, putting his weight on his hands behind him, stretching his legs out in front of him. "If it ain't the Locker…"

"It's the Locker," Jack said in much brasher voice than Elizabeth expected out of him.

"Well how come we got night and day here then, and water, and food? It ain't the Locker of the stories."

"I don't expect too many have been to the Locker to bring back stories about it," Ragetti whispered, taking out his eye to polish it with his shirt.

"Well," Jack said, standing, "Not that has not been a most enlightening diversion, but I must forfeit my shells and see to the fire." She watched his lengthened stride bound up the beach to pull off a few twigs and toss them into their fire. She exhaled, grateful he hadn't chosen to stay in the woods again. Yawning, she had to heave backwards to lift her head off her knees. Her back and neck still throbbed from being thrown from the _Pearl. _Shuffling to her feet, she sprang for the woods, scolding herself for not having conjured her idea sooner.

A few palm trees formed the border of the woods, before the olive grove, and their trunks bent easily from wind. Her muscles remembered how to climb up one from the last time she was marooned, allowing her to reach up to the tree next to the one she was in and shake a few coconuts down to the ground. It was more of a challenge to get down than it had been last year, her feet knocking into the trunk more this time, but she jumped down unscathed and collected the coconuts in her arms.

"Midnight snack," she whispered to Pintel and Ragetti, letting two of the fruits tumble out of her hold and roll to them. She took the rest over to the fire and set them down without saying a word. She watched Jack feed the fire from the corner of her eyes, frozen at the sight of his lips moving just a fraction, as if he wanted to say something to her. Blinking herself back to life, Elizabeth busied herself by lining the coconuts into a row.

"Leave it to Ragetti to build a weak fire," Jack said, taking a seat.

"At least he managed one," she said without looking at him, still not able to meet his eyes for long. She chose her words to avoid bringing up their rather intimate encounter earlier. "I'm afraid I still don't know how to make one." Besides survival, all that had been on her mind all day was that she had woken up with his arms around her.

"You mean to tell me after all this time you don't know the first thing about making a fire?" Any other time, before I'm-not-sorry, before I-always-knew-you-were-a-good-man, she would think nothing of matching his incredulous tone with some sort of statement that would make them even, but now nothing came. Not even a one-word answer came, forcing her to shake her head in reply. "Come here."

"We already have one going," she said, finding herself walking over and sitting next to him. You know better than anyone I can't be trusted to be this close to you, Jack. She could feel the sweat dripping down the back of her neck.

"We don't have to feed the one you start, just see to it that we get you making one."

"Me?"

"Now," he ignored her disbelief and handed her a bow-like strip of wood with a string attached to both ends of it. "This is your bow." He held up a sharp piece of wood. "This is your drill." He took one of the spare pieces of wood in the pile and drove a notch into it. "Drill goes in there."

She set the drill into the notch, holding onto the now-standing piece of wood with a pointy end.

"Now rub the bow against it."

Mimicking a violinist, she rubbed the bow against the drill in short, swift bursts, focused solely on creating a spark.

"It needs to turn faster than that or you won't get anywhere. Not so fast you break the string now." She blocked out the criticism and continued, putting more of her weight into it, swaying back and forth into her nonexistent fire. So caught up in it, she jumped at his touch. He had crossed behind her, his arms on top of hers, his hands enveloping her own.

"Like this now." She let him guide the motions, her body too stunned to do anything else. She leaned into him, the back of her head falling back against his jaw. "Like that, love."

Elizabeth could barely breathe, just hearing him call her that again made her heart pound so loudly she was shocked no one else could hear it. He had whispered it, the tip of his nose and lips in her hair. All she could hear was the sound of her own shallow breaths. One of his hands slipped up and off her arm, palming her hipbone. Not sure if the moan she heard out of him was real or not, she inclined her neck, every pore on it dying for his lips.

They started to rock back and forth with a little more force, and she could feel his ragged breathing matching her own. Too afraid to turn all the way around and kiss him, she wallowed in the moment, her arm cramping from fighting the need to hold his head where it was to keep him from backing away. A sharp crackle forced her eyes open. A tiny spark danced at the base of the drill and the flat piece of wood. Tears welled in her eyes at the sight of it.

Elizabeth swiveled only a little, needing to move to accommodate the scalding undulations coming from her abdomen. She didn't think she'd ever felt such physical pain before when he let go of her and stood.

"So…fire," Jack said, gesturing at the dwindling spark. With an uncomfortable expression, he returned to Pintel and Ragetti, leaving her to stare into the black ocean and contemplate plunging into it. The soft whishing of the current was torture. She brought her hand up to her forehead, confirming what she already knew. She was burning up and the only way to cool off on this abhorrent, loathsome hellhole was to wade in the unfeeling waters that cast her here in the first place.

* * *

Will could only stare into the tent cover, sleep refusing to come to him. It was little wonder, Gibbs and Barbossa both snoring in total syncopation. The pillow conformed to his entire upper body, wide enough to let him snuggle up to a corner of it if he wished, but sleep would not come no matter what his position. Could be worse, he mused. There was not a mosquito around, nor a pack of ferocious wolves or a sailor defecating off the side of a ship. He closed his eyes, the soft sleeves of his wine-colored shirt brushing against the sides of his face. If he could just empty his mind…

He popped his eyes open at the sensation of a hand caressing his forehead.

"Hello."

Crawling backwards to the edge of the tent, Will's eyes widened at the ghostly sight. A woman so pale and shapeless she reminded Will of the torn flag that topped the _Black Pearl _floated above him, her almond-shaped eyes drinking in the sight of him.

"Who are you?"

"Where're me manners? Mary Read, sir, a pleasure." Her black hair wafted over her like a corona, but everything about her petite little body was muted somehow, reducing what had probably been at one time a sharp-featured young girl into a specter.

"You led us here to the tent," he swallowed, his fingers running along his belt, unsure if reaching for a weapon would be the best course of action. He could see right through her to the empty plates stacked up in the corner.

"Aye, that I did. I thought it best to wait until ye all were nice and full before introducin' myself. I already know ye, Will Turner. I see ye know how to take the wine down the hatch."

His mouth smiled, surprising his terrified eyes.

"Do…do you live here?"

"I go wherever Calypso has need of me, and if that be here in this strange place, then here I be. Fine thinkin' on her part, too, seein' as you're here and need looking after. Are you sure you and your men won't be goin' back to your ship any time soon? Everyone's alive and well."

"It…it…it's not my ship," was all he could blubber out, straightening his back to be able to speak to the creature. "Did you have something to do with everyone being alive and well?"

"I should, seein' as how I was the one what started the tempest."

"What?"

"It was to bring the lot of ye here!" She cowered, her form lowering to the ground in spite of the fact Will had not moved an inch. "Calypso was a might worried about ye, that ye'd kill each other when she needs you alive!"

"Alive for what?"

"That be for her to be telling you. I didn't mean any harm to anyone, Mr. Turner, least of all you. You were the one she wanted me to protect the most, and I did it as best as I knew how, warmin' up the island for ye, setting a dinner before ye. Don't be angry with me, Mr. Turner. I will help you round everyone up, even Mr. Norrington and Mr. Swann."

"What? What did you say? Norrington and Governor Swann are here?" His eyes immediately shifted to the entrance of the tent, expecting them to walk in like it was a normal day for everyone and take the spare pillows. He needed to stop fooling himself, he decided. This unfortunately is a normal day anymore. "Are they all right? Do they know we're here? Does that mean they've died?"

"I know nothing of the two of them but for their names. Calypso told me."

"That must be the others she saw before she left us," he said, remembering his initial shock when he learned Tia Dalma's identity. "What does she want with all of us?"

"The sea calls to all men, Mr. Turner, and even some women. Me and Annie knew that well as anyone else. What she wants with ye I don't know, but it be for something grand. I know that. It needs to belong to her again, not to men. She needs all of ye alive to stop Davy Jones from his carnage, the carnage I must pick up after. I got three more years of service before I'm free and I don't intend to disappoint her. You look disappointed, yourself, Mr. Turner. Don't tell me you owe the goddess somethin' too."

"No," he said, shaking his head. "No, I don't owe her anything that I know of…yet. Mary, you need to help us leave this place. We know how, but we all need to be together to do it. I won't leave anyone here."

"No one expects you to, least of all me. But ye have to spend the night, sir. It's a big day for everyone tomorrow. I liked when ye called me Mary just now."

"What happens tomorrow?" Will slowly returned to his pillow and lied down on it, not taking his eyes off of her. Vague memories of holding his mother's hand in England while they shuffled through the market filled his head. Running along to keep up with her, a man had stopped them and asked if they heard the news that two women pirates had been captured and found guilty, only to "plead their bellies" and thus rotted away in prison rather than hang. Such a scandal never bothered Alice Turner's ears, but she did cover those of her son, just not well enough.

"Don't rightly know, but I know it promises to be exciting," she said, clasping her hands together. Her smile was contagious, and he found a tired smile breaking out on his own face. "Ye should be getting' rest, Mr. Turner."

"Will."

"Will. I won't stay if it bothers ye."

He raised an eyebrow at the statement. It reminded him of being pulled off of the driftwood that day, that day he met Elizabeth and she stroked his soaked hair and whispered she was watching over him before he fainted.

"Our anchor we'll weigh/and our sails we will set/Goodbye, fare thee well/Goodbye, fare thee well/The friends we are leaving/we leave with regret/Hurrah, my boys, we're homeward bound," she sang in a hushed voice next to him. It was a slow, flowing song that was the last thing he heard that night, and he couldn't be sure if he truly heard, or merely dreamed, the rest.

"We're homeward bound/Oh joyful sound/Goodbye, fare thee well/Goodbye, fare thee well/Come rally the capstan/And run quick around/Hurrah, my boys, we're homeward bound."

* * *

**A/N: The song Mary sings is called "Homeward Bound" and is an old sea shanty. If you just google, "sea shanty," you'll see most of the ones I use in my fics. I had considered making it the chapter title. "Fire That Would Ascend the Brightest Heaven of Invention" is from _The Life of King Henry the Fifth. _**


	8. All the Devils Are Here

"Will, ye been silent, lad. What be the trouble?" Gibbs asked him, taking a swig from his flask.

"Oh, just, just worried. That's all." He had spent the morning waiting for Mary to appear again and direct them to the others, but so far there had been no interaction whatsoever, leading Will to speculate he had dreamed her. He led their search party through the woods, the salty smell of the sea never leaving them. The wind even carried it with it, spraying them once or twice with a mist.

"If we go much farther it'll be a day's journey just to get back to the ship," Barbossa said, stating what everyone had been thinking. "I, for one, am not sure just how we'll manage that without another mysterious tent full of food."

"We'd manage." Will pushed aside a few wiry shrubs blocking his path, hoping for Mary to show herself just to prove to himself he hadn't gone mad. There was enough madness on the _Pearl _without him engaging in it.

"The sooner we all arrive to Shipwreck Cove, the better," Barbossa grunted. His fingers examined a branch. "Aye, the best we can hope for is for Calypso to let us free her. None should challenge that once they see we have her with us."

"Ye be forgettin' we don't have her with us at the moment," Gibbs snapped. "It don't take a sailor long to learn not to make deals with her kind."

Will spun around and stopped in his tracks, a million thoughts circling through his head.

"But, Jack bartered his compass from her, and that turned out all right. He brought us to her to find the location of the _Flying Dutchman _and she did it all for that stupid monkey." He averted Barbossa's glare. "She was the only one who knew for a fact Jack could be rescued from this place. Like it or not, we've already made a deal with her."

"Aye, and we ain't out of the woods yet." Gibbs nodded. "T'won't be long before we be all feelin' a might sorry for coming. As for the compass…look, I ain't one to discuss Jack when he ain't around, but that cost him something fierce, same with the _Flying Dutchman_." Will knew all he had to do was wait for his answers. "Now, Will, ye do know when the first brethren court bound Calypso into human form, they left her where she would be picked up years later, many years later, by Jack, eh? Her and her people were picked up by the East India Trading Company, ye know?"

Will hadn't, but refused to open his mouth until he had heard everything.

"Ole Jack knew there was somethin' funny about her and when he'd lost the _Pearl _the first time, he went to see her, at his wit's end about what to do. She gave him that compass and then decided they'd get more friendly-like. Ye know how she is, don't ye? Even looked into his future, she did."

"She be only half nigh enjoyable and that's at a distance," Barbossa interrupted before chuckling. "Don't tell me she roped Jack into that."

"Aye, but at the last second…well, you heard it from his own lips she'd tried to kill him."

"How exactly does one free Calypso?" Will asked, his eyes wide in confusion. Barbossa edged closer to him.

"Ye need all the Pieces of Eight together first. Then ye get a Pirate Lord and leave him alone with her," he said with a smirk. "That ain't the hard part. Even lookin' the way she does she still got that way about her. But ye take her, and then ye take her." His eyebrows lifted in emphasis. "And after ye done, ye gather her up as you would a lover and take her to the sea. All ye do then is put her in it, and let it consume her."

"Drown her?"

"It ain't really," Gibbs said. "It sets her free, just no lord ever done so. Too afraid."

"And Jack?"

"Well," Gibbs coughed, puffing up his chest. "He wouldn't give me all the details, naturally, but it was a mighty strange picture it was, finishing with her and then dodgin' a knife. Not sure if whatever she found out from him was worth it, seein' as he don't have no memory of that part…But Tia Dalma, that one…" He shuddered. "She ain't one to scoff at, Will. We'll be payin' a hefty price for depending on her, I'd wager."

Will licked his lips, clearing his throat before asking, "Gibbs, have you ever heard of Mary Read?"

"Ah, pirate lass, that. Was presumably hanged, if I remember."

"Ha! If only it t'were a hanging and not a fever," Mary's voice thundered above them, eliciting an amused smile from Will. "T'was a fever 'bout finished me off." She materialized right in front of them, her transparent hands on her hips. She giggled at their astonishment. "Did ye decide to go back to the ship yet, Mr. Turner?"

"Will, remember? No. We have to make sure everyone is accounted for." She sped in front of him, facing him with more than a hint of authority in her face. She held a finger up to her white lips.

"Shush. One of them is nearby in the thicket there."

Before Barbossa or Gibbs could question the winged sprite in front of them, their heads snapped towards the thicket. Will kept a hand on his pistol, just in case, he told himself, each rustle building in volume until Governor Swann emerged from the thick patch, his shirt torn and dark bags under his eyes.

"Will?"

"Governor Swann?"

"Ye see?" Mary said. "Didn't take no time, nor effort, either, and one is already found." She flew to Governor Swann and held the back of his neck. "Some scratches you have back here, sir. Don't fret. What Mary breaks, she mends." Governor Swann held still, his pleading eyes like saucers to Will. "There we are!" Releasing him, he stumbled forward towards the rest of the group. "Good as new."

"Er, thank you," Swann said, patting the back of his neck. His hand on Will's shoulder, he regained his footing, gawking at his surroundings.

"Ahem, Governor Swann, I'd like you to meet Mr. Gibbs, Captain Barbossa, and Mary Read," Will offered, knowing his face matched the addled ones all focused on him.

"Uh…please to make your acquaintance, Governor." Gibbs approached first, his hefty hand jerked out for a handshake. "Ye probably don't remember me, but we made the passage from England together, back when Miss Elizabeth was, oh, was it twelve? Ye must be worried sick about her, sir. Rest assured, that's what we're all out here doing, looking for her and the others. We took on quite a tidal wave, we did." Draping his arm around Swann's shoulder, he turned back and winked at Will, who could only mouth a silent "thank you."

"Tell me, Governor, what news from the real world? Seems like we been here as long as Jack sometimes, always somethin' new. Who would have thought we'd see ye of all people?"

"Beckett." Swann paused. "Beckett sent Admiral Norrington and me here, removing himself from our objections. I haven't the slightest idea where he is. But tell me, Mr. Gibbs, you said Elizabeth is well?"

"Well, er, she's a strong one, that," Gibbs said, holding up a hand to keep Will from speaking. "Woulda done ya proud, I'm sure, takin' on a kraken and all."

Will's face fell into his palm.

"Don't worry, Will. She is well. He tells no lie."

Leaping a few feet at how close Mary's voice had been, he straightened his back and walked next to her hovering form. "I know she is."

"Then why do ye snap at me so?"

Had he snapped at her? Her frown tugged at him.

"I'm sorry, Mary. I suppose I'm feeling a little guilty. I've been looking at Elizabeth's recovery as something to dread rather than rejoice over. I, I'm not sure she'll be happy to see me. I'm not even sure we're still engaged at this point."

"You're engaged?" she gasped, stopping in midair. Will backtracked to her, wondering if the soft glimmer on her face was a tear.

"I don't know. I was." For a pirate, or former pirate, she was certainly sensitive, but why should she act betrayed? He'd only met her last night, not even seeing her until he was minutes from going to sleep. He caught something that resembled hope in her eyes. "Will you still come with us?" She nodded and they proceeded through the thick woods. With every step, he found himself pouring out everything that had happened in the last year, a great liberating feeling overcoming him. Just telling someone about the choice he would have to make when he returned made him feel that he could make the best decision possible, even if he didn't know what it was.

"I understand," Mary whispered. "Well, I understand playin' a part for a parent. Me mum would dress me as a boy to keep getting' support from me father's father. T'wasn't till I was marryin' me husband, God rest his soul, that I knew what it was to wear a dress."

Giving her an attentive laugh, Will said, "Did you fancy you would be reacquainting yourself with pirates?"

"The sea's in me blood, so as long as pirates sail the waters, I'm bound to run into a few of 'em." She paused, her finger tapping her chin in thought. "Still can't say I've run into such a crew as this one."

The group continued their hike, the rough, ragged ground taking its toll on their knees. Glimpses of white sand ahead triggered everyone to hold their breaths. The opposite coast of where they started, the lack of anyone there could be more discouraging than anything they had yet faced.

"Father!"

* * *

Elizabeth scurried to her father and threw her arms around him. His kiss on her cheek, he pulled away just enough to look at her.

"Elizabeth! Oh, I was so worried about you!"

"Ye loathsome, odious little whoreson!" she heard before she could spill out everything she had rehearsed explaining to her father when and if she ever saw him again. Barbossa, sword drawn, marched up to Jack and lunged for him. Drawing out his sword with equal speed, Jack blocked the advance.

"Foul, swag-bellied clotpole! I can do it, too!"

"Sailin' my ship into this island of horrors…" Barbossa charged back at him.

"Your ship?" They exchanged blades for a few seconds, half-circling. "Careful, mate. What would Tia Dalma have to say about ye comin' all this way for me just to cut me down, eh?"

"Didn't say nothin' about removin' a couple things of yours, though." Barbossa sneered, his gaze lowering.

"Stop!" Will ran with his sword unsheathed, clanging it into the middle of their battle. Hadn't they just been through this sort of ordeal, Elizabeth thought, shaking her head at the sight.

"Stay out of this, lad," Barbossa snapped, tackling Will's sword. Rolling her eyes, she broke out of her father's embrace only to be swept up into Pintel's.

"Don't want to be interfering now, poppet."

Elbowing him, she spun around and stole his sword from him, pointing it right under his chin.

"Don't do that again!" she snarled at the same time Pintel spat out, "She stole my sword!"

"Don't go attackin' Mr. Turner, Miss Elizabeth!" Ragetti whined. "It ain't his fault he made that deal with Sao Feng."

The swords paused, all eyes on Will.

"Was I not supposed to mention that?" Ragetti whispered to Pintel.

"What deals ye be makin' behind our backs?" Barbossa demanded.

"Nothing that concerns…"

"What deal, Will?" Elizabeth approached.

"Sao Feng demanded the _Pearl. _He would have been waiting for us with his entire fleet if I hadn't…I promised him Jack in exchange for the _Pearl._"

Jack abandoned Barbossa and went straight for Will, a much faster-paced and aggressive parry this time. Elizabeth took the opportunity to grind her sword against Barbossa's. Grinning at her, he drove his sword right into where her throat would have been had she not ducked in time. This sword was heavier than her own, but still light enough for her to wield with one hand. All the minuets and waltzes in her adolescent years called back to her, the footwork much the same now as it was then. So close the crosses of their swords banged together, she waited for their blades to touch again before pushing into it, shoving him backwards.

"My daughter's fighting Captain Barbossa," Swann uttered, all breath knocked out of him.

"Aye, that does seem to be the case," Ragetti said, folding his arms. "See, you get to sailin' with these folks for a long time and certain tensions seem to build. Obviously, Jack's a might out of sorts that Turner decided to turn on him and betray him to Sao Feng. Of course, he's also got a rivalry with Barbossa going, vying for the _Pearl. _Miss Elizabeth, I think, might be seizing an opportunity to loose some rage and seein' as we did kidnap her last year…" He looked over at his audience. "Oh."

"Why ain't you in this, Gibbs?" Pintel asked, turning to Gibbs, who was taking a swig from his flask.

"Wasn't finished." Drawing out his sword, Gibbs let out a gravelly cry and exploded into the action, joining Elizabeth against Barbossa.

"No, no, no, no!" Mary cried, wringing her hands together. "Stop! Stop!" She spread her arms and propelled them into the air. All the swords immediately clattered to the ground, the fighters clutching their dominant hands in their other ones. A scorching pain burned through Elizabeth's hand, feeling as though she'd touched a branding iron. Shaking her hand out, she looked up and saw everyone around her following suit.

"This was the very thing I didn't want to have happen!" Mary howled at them. "Everyone was supposed to reconcile their differences, not go gallivanting about destroyin' each other!"

"Ye never explained yourself, missy," Gibbs spoke first. "Just what is your business with us?"

"I was sent by Calypso to guard the ship," she sighed. "Ye couldn't all go back to the world the way ye was, so the tempest had to come and send ye here until everything could be sorted. But it isn't working! I'll just be bringin' the ship to this side of the island then. Do we have everyone?"

"Norrington," Swann said, rushing to Elizabeth's side. "Where is Norrington?"

"Oh. Very well. I'll just put him on the ship to save time."

The _Black Pearl _came into view, gliding through the sparkling shallows, the silhouettes of the crew still in her clutching the rails, looking every which way at the unseen force sending them forward.

"Ye have all day until sunset, so I 'spect the lot of ye to let each other alone," Mary scolded them, pulling a longboat up to the beach for them.

* * *

**A/N: "Hell is empty and all the devils are here" comes from _The Tempest_. Between Mary, Gibbs, and Barbossa's speech patterns and Jack's occasional (read: intentional) grammatical mistakes, this took a long time to write. Let me know how it was!**


	9. Bashful Sincerity and Comely Love

Let's give this another go, shall we, Jack thought to himself, ordering the crew to haul the pallet line once again before Barbossa returned to the upper deck. Climbing up the steps to the helm, he narrowed his eyebrows at Tia Dalma smirking right at him, her forearms resting on the helm's spokes. She turned away from him, flaring out her arm and skirts to peer down at the crew.

"I might have thought you'd sent that Mary creature to take your place as official supernatural nuisance."

"Ah, Jack, I did miss dat tongue." Eyes still on the crew, the corner of her mouth twisted up into a grin. His lips curled at the endless possibilities that could have triggered that grin. Tiptoeing to the edge, he looked down to see James Norrington helping to trim the sail. Now that is interesting, he thought, making sure to step back as casually as he could to the helm. For several minutes, all he could hear was the sound of the ship slicing through the churning waters, his favorite sound in the entire world. Seems it transcends worlds, mate, he reminded himself. Checking over his shoulder, he sighed at Tia Dalma still near. "Yer welcome," she hissed.

"Oy, now, shouldn't it be you saying that to me, regarding something in my possession which can be used as a means to free ye?' He considered drumming his Piece of Eight for effect, but decided against it. He was sure she knew that his Piece of Eight was in fact what he used as his Piece of Eight, but best leave some room for doubt.

"Never mind me comin' and getting' ya den."

"Something tells me it wasn't you doin' most of the work."

"I did trow a bomb for ya."

That did register a slight snicker, but he pretended to clear his throat. Sunset could not come soon enough. Her head slanted to catch his attention, he gave her a wink.

"Mr. Gibbs!" This would get rid of her.

"Aye?"

"While you're down there, throw our dear friend the Commodore into the brig."

"I think he's an admiral now, Jack."

"A rose by any other name would smell as sweet and said rose has a nice heaving into the brig ahead of him, savvy?"

"Aye!" Gibbs ran off with a wicked grin.

"What ya tryin' to do wit he?" Tia Dalma challenged. As if on cue, James bounded up the steps.

"What's the meaning of this, Sparrow?"

"Admiral, eh? That's not usually the effect of losing one's commission, 'tho I confess, it's been a while since I've had the pleasure of any military men aboard my ship. The last one, I think, was you, who made it rather impenetrably clear you had your own ideas about what to do with the heart of Davy Jones when and if we found it. Found it we did, and lo and behold, it was not in my possession and you've returned to us as an admiral. Ergo, you are not a man to be trusted on board this vessel."

"And what would you have done with it?" James blurted, seized by both arms by Cotton and Gibbs and dragged down the stairs. "God help us all if you were the captain those lost at sea had to count on! Sparrow, you conniving bastard! I won't spend this journey in the brig of a pirate ship!"

"We'll let ye out at sunset!" Jack yelled down to him, his hair falling in front of his shoulders. Yes, yes, that was a satisfying sight. He could stand a little taller now.

"Proud, wicked Jack." Tia Dalma shook her head.

"Captain's prerogative, Tia, meaning I can do anything as I like." Almost anything.

"Ye won't be da one to take Davy Jones's place. Him already in mind."

"Ye said that as though you wanted to hurt me just now," he pouted.

"Ya keep it up, Jack, and I tell ya, yer compass gwine be given back to me."

"Take the bloody thing. It's what's led to this mess." He bit the insides of his cheeks, the weight of his compass in his pocket growing heavier and heavier with each thought of giving it back to her. It had worked, for the most part, finding him what he needed for the last ten years. But would it ever work again? Afraid to continue this line of discussion, he chose the only option left available to him. "Just because ye have someone in mind for the job don't mean they'll jump at the chance to take it."

"Proud, wicked, stupid Jack!" she purred with violent eyes, taking a sharp turn towards the steps.

"Mr. Gibbs!" He stuck his head out past the railing, his hair falling over his shoulders.

"Aye!"

"Young Mr. Turner is out of hearing range and quite unarmed. It would be most ungentlemanly of us to not give the Admiral some company, savvy?"

"Aye, Jack!"

* * *

Will paced the smaller of the two cells making up the _Pearl's _brig, unnerved by the ethereal stillness with which James Norrington sat in the cell across from him. Letting his forearms dangle through the bars, Will wedged his face between them at the sound of light footsteps.

"Elizabeth, go get the keys from Jack or Gibbs or whoever has them and let us out of here." He didn't mean to snap the order at her, taken aback by her sudden flinch.

Positioned right between the two cells, just out of both men's reach, she hugged herself.

"Why didn't you tell me about what you had planned with Sao Feng?"

"I needed the _Pearl. _It's the only ship that can beat the _Flying Dutchman. _If I hadn't promised him anything he would have been waiting with his entire fleet just as I told you he would. I suppose it wasn't your burden to bear." Repeating her words to her gave him a dark satisfaction, but it waned upon seeing her eyes flare, fuming at him before cooling into the deathly calm warrior eyes she always wore when cornered, almost always. Instead, they both jumped at the sharp laugh.

"Sao Feng is dead," James said. "If I were in a better mood I would explain the irony to you."

"If he's dead then what's become of his Piece of Eight?" Elizabeth asked, nearing his cell.

"Who knows? Hopefully for the pirates, he passed it on to a successor, as they are all supposed to. If I were you, I would start praying the new pirate lord of this sea didn't receive very good continuity."

"You're on this ship, too, Norrington," Will whispered with a bite. "If he sinks the _Pearl_, you'll go down with her and we'll all have a run-in with Jones."

"We need his Piece of Eight to free Calypso," Elizabeth said more to herself than to either of them, biting down on her bottom lip. "I'll come back at sunset."

* * *

Wasn't your burden to bear, what stupid words, she cursed while she sewed a patch into Gibbs' vest, the flowing, steady motion of the needle and thread busying her hands. She took her time with the stitching, knowing a mended vest would be a fair trade for the key to the brig.

"Ah, a bit of needlepoint for you. You know, I always thought you were rather good at it."

She looked up to see her father sit next to her.

"Where have you been?"

"Strangely sipping wine and eating rations in the galley with a Mr. Cotton. He had his tongue cut out, I was told, and he has a parrot who sits on his shoulder and says words every now and then."

Hearing the faces that were so familiar to her now they seemed like they had been with her for her entire life described in such a new way by fresh eyes brought a smile to her face.

"Yes, apparently Captain Sparrow has quite the wine collection, can't see him missing the one we finished."

"You and Cotton finished a whole bottle of wine?"

"Oh, forgive me, my dear, I didn't fill you in on all the details. While I was conversing with, well, Mr. Cotton's parrot, these two dirtier…" He flailed his hands searching for the right words. "…cruder men entered, one with a wooden eye, and they took the bottle from right off the table and drank from it straight. I'd never seen such bad manners, but then they asked how I was doing on board the ship. This…I have a renewed appreciation for your versatility, daughter."

"You get used to it, Father," she said, shaking her head at the preposterous discussion they were having. Oh, and while we're on the subject, Father, since you've last seen me, I've commandeered a ship without firing a shot, hit your beloved James over the head with a rum bottle, failed to recover the dead man's chest, and…tears glossed over her eyes at just the thought of everything that happened after that.

"I'm so proud of you, Elizabeth."

"That's the last thing I deserve to hear right now."

"Why? Elizabeth, I could scarcely have survived half the things you've managed to do and whenever I've had the misfortune of seeing you in danger you've always stared right back at it." He stroked a bit of her hair. "You have no idea what a rarity that sort of courage is. I must ask, though, because I can't help but notice that you and Will have not exactly, exactly…"

"Been speaking?" she offered with cold sarcasm.

"Yes. Is there anything you wish to tell me?"

They were large, concerned eyes, she noted, the lines around his face and the gray in his hair more prominent than ever. There were so many things she wished to tell him.

"I can't tell you."

"If you can't your father, who can you tell?" He took her hand at the strain her body mustered to keep her face from crumpling. "You do know I'm bound by my duty as your father to still love you no matter what it is," he said with a small smile.

"Father," she gasped, falling onto his shoulder. "I've done the worst things, things I didn't even know I was capable of doing." It took an eternity to spill out that sentence, her voice struggling to keep from sobbing.

"My dear, when desperate times call for desperate measures…well, it's as if you've been at war. We'll set it right, whatever it is. Please. Please let me know what you've been up to since I last saw you."

"All right," she said and took a breath.

* * *

"There are nine pirate lords and your navy has never captured any of them?" Will blurted, his cramped surroundings taking their toll on him. He had just been told the names of the pirate lords who would be awaiting them at Shipwreck Cove, each one infamous in his or her own region.

"If they were easy to catch they wouldn't have the status of being a pirate lord, would they?" James snapped back. "You've sailed with two of them, Mr. Turner, and committed crimes right along with them. The least they could have done was told you all this."

They only left out the number, Will considered before deciding he had no desire to defend pirates today.

"Perhaps they told the future Mrs. Turner, seeing as how friendly they all are with her."

Will rushed to the bars.

"I know what you're insinuating! You betrayed us all when you took the heart. You're in no position to judge anyone!"

"And neither are you. Don't forget you're right here across from me."

"Have you two been arguing all day? There's really no need for it." Elizabeth came into view with a long black key in her hand, a picture of serenity.

"Did you know there are nine pirate lords?"

"Nine? No, I didn't."

Will shot a look at James, changing it into a smirk when his cell door opened. She unlocked the other door and stood there with them, staring back and forth at them.

"It's almost sunset," she reminded them when they failed to go up to the main deck.

"What's the plan for capsizing the ship?" Will asked, the gears in his mind coming back to life with each step he took.

"I don't know. Perhaps your ghost girl will have a bright idea."

"Those are fairly accusing words coming from you." They stopped in the middle of the stairs, blocking James.

"They're not accusatory at all. They simply imply that Mary seems to be quite fond of you in spite of the fact you were going to risk a man's life for a ship. I remember once when you disapproved of that sort of thing."

"I did, and I still do. But I said to myself, 'what would a pirate do?' and I arrived at my answer. Is that how you came to your decisions?"

"If I may pass and not be included in this lovers' quarrel…" James coughed.

"I told you why I did it! I did it to save you, to save everyone!"

"Then why did you feel like keeping it a secret?"

"We discussed all of this, Will!"

"No! No, we did not discuss it at all. All we agreed on was that we possibly can't trust each other and you're not making matters any better the way you're acting now!"

"Oh!" she grunted. "And had I told you everything, would it have changed the fact that you needed the _Pearl_ to rescue your father and would have done anything to do it? Would it? Of all the asinine choices! Did you forget all those times you'd come to the house to just sit in the parlor with us? Remember? We used to both have a cup of warm milk while Father would smoke his pipe and you'd tell me when it was time to go that you were imagining we were your family the whole time because you didn't have one! That's the father you're even tempted to save at my expense? The father that left you without a family? Oh, you think I didn't know about the choice you had to make, but that's what you get for being on a festering piece of wood we just so happen to call a boat and everyone on it is too fond of telling stories!"

They both exchanged pained expressions before slowly coming together into a hug.

"My God," James mumbled, rolling his eyes.

"We can't get married," Will sighed, holding her a little tighter, his cheek on the top of her head.

"We can't?" she asked with a guarded optimism. Both of them emitted embarrassed smiles. "I was so worried I was the only one having doubts." She covered her mouth with her hand and closed her eyes, unsure whether to laugh or cry. "Will, I love you. I'll always love you, but…"

"I know. I, I thought for so long we'd…promise me this—when we're done here, when it's all finished, if you change your mind and want to rethink a wedding, you'll make sure I'm the first to know."

"The same goes for you. Will, you promise me something. Promise me from now on I finally have a brother." For a straight ten seconds, James counted, Will and Elizabeth locked eyes before pecking each other's lips and continued up to the main deck.

* * *

**A/N: And here's where I lose any traces of willabeth readers. I hope this got across the idea that, at least in this story, Will and Elizabeth both were trying to make more of their relationship than there actually was. There is still love there, just not the kind required to make a marriage and I tried to have them both kind of have that epiphany at the same time. Too soon? Too rushed? Too far overdue? Let me know! "Bashful sincerity and comely love" comes from _Much Ado About Nothing_ and I think the full quote is a sweet, beautiful description of Will and Elizabeth's relationship. "I never tempted her with word too large, but, as a brother to his sister, showed bashful sincerity and comely love."**


	10. Let Slip the Dogs of War

**A/N: Thanks for all the reviews! They mean so much! Again, I do not own POTC. This little chapter took A LOT of research on the designs of the ships in the movies and of sea battles in general. The multiple viewpoints was also exhausting, so if you want to leave a review...that would be like a nice breather in a hot tub for me!**

* * *

"Loose the guns!"

"Loose the guns!"

After hearing Gibbs repeat Jack's order, the crew let the cannons slide from one end of the rocking ship to the other.

"What can I do?" Mary asked him on his way down the steps to join in the manic running from port to starboard and back.

"Can't imagine what ye could do." It wasn't that he disliked the strange little haunt, but anyone paying a debt to Tia Dalma could be made impetuous enough to do anything. It was something the enigmatic siren had in common with her cursed lover, and the less of that he had on his ship, the better.

"There must be something," Mary muttered, but he pretended not to hear, crashing into the railing of the _Pearl _with everyone else, the run back to starboard more and more an uphill climb until everyone gripped the railing, watching stray cannonballs and debris roll down the deck and plummet into the ocean. "Ah! I know!"

Jack heard an ear-piercing shriek, able to see only from the corner of his eye one of the men lose his grip and fall with the same rapid velocity as everything else had until Mary Read spread her long white wings and broke his fall. On her back between her wings, the man ranted thanks in his language before grabbing onto the railing again. At last Jack could feel the sea wash over him, upside down hanging onto a capsized ship. Adjusting his eyes, he watched the ropes float in the teal water. His stomach lurched at the sudden pull of the _Pearl _returning herself to the surface. Rotating a full three hundred and sixty degrees, the ocean bubbled at the movement right underneath it, a gurgling preceding the rollicking jerk that threw everyone back down onto the deck.

"Are we back?" Will was the first to ask after a few coughs.

"Colors on the horizon," Barbossa answered, scrambling to his feet and running to the forecastle, his spyglass in hand. "Two ships. Two not so friendly ships."

Everyone rushed to join him, weighed down by their yet-again soaked clothing, the silhouettes of two massive ships' sails billowing in the wind. Jack paled, knowing full well the hundred guns on the _Endeavor _all had their eyes on the _Pearl's _thirty-two. A poor captain indeed, he recalled, cursing at himself for not implementing bow or stern chasers.

"What ship is that next to the _Endeavor_?" he heard behind him. Bugger. How did he always wind up next to her?

"That be the _Empress_," he said. "Sao Feng's own instrument of destruction." The _Empress's _sharp scarlet sails came ever closer. "Hard to port!" he called.

"You ain't talkin' of outrunnin' 'em?" Barbossa growled.

"It's what she does best." Jack patted the ship on his way to the helm. Will and Elizabeth followed him up.

"We're in the middle of the ocean in broad daylight! There's nowhere to run to!" Will said the second Jack's hands hit the helm. "Sao Feng is dead anyway."

"Has it not occurred to you if that be the case, then Beckett has two gigantic warships coming straight for us instead of one? Has it not also occurred to you, William, that there are several guns on port side?" he asked with a slight grin, enjoying Will's sudden enlightenment and renewed faith in him and watched him run down below decks to command the guns. Sure enough, the _Empress _and the _Endeavor _each took a lifetime to turn and chase the smaller, more agile _Pearl, _opening their sides up to her. Never mind it was Will's stupidity that brought them here, Jack repeated to himself over and over again. Never mind it. Be in the moment, this moment, right now.

"Fire."

"Fire!" he heard Elizabeth shout, running down the steps below decks at the same time she loaded a long rifle. "Below decks, all of you!"

The ships returned fire, catching up to the _Pearl, _the _Endeavor _right next to her. Without waiting for any of their crew to swing across, Elizabeth opened fire, a cloud of smoke heralding the first casualty of the battle. Barbossa seconded her fire with his own rifle. The remaining men on deck drew their swords, a few holding hammers instead.

Whatever works, Jack admitted, spinning the helm to create enough space between the ships to keep anyone from swinging across.

The heart.

Handing the helm over to Marty, Jack climbed up into the rigging, pistol drawn. The _Endeavor _closed in on them once again, the _Empress _just behind her. One of the _Endeavor's _crew swung into the rigging of the _Pearl _with an inexperienced scream. Jack took aim and closed one eye. The soldier tumbled down onto the deck, allowing the empty rope to come right to him.

"Thanks, mate!" he called down and swung to the other ship, exhilarated at the feeling.

* * *

"Hold your fire!" Will frowned at the dwindling cannonballs. "Start loading the rum!"

"Aw, Mr. Turner, not again!" Pintel cringed.

"Everything you can find!" He pulled his belt off, making it slither between the loops, and broke off the buckle. "Start with that. You men, come down with me to the hull!" Tia Dalma, Mary, Gibbs, and Governor Swann were on his heels, the latter casting off a final look of terror before hurrying along with them.

* * *

Elizabeth rammed the butt of her rifle into one of the invading horde, clasping onto the long barrel like a sword. Swinging it down into another man's back, she leapt over his unconscious body to where she saw James dueling on the other side of the deck with a member of the _Empress's _crew. Already grossly outnumbered, she ran to him and fought off the attacker with him. She could only see the top of Barbossa's hat, busy in its own fight.

"Watch out!" James latched onto a handful of her vest and pulled her back to him, just in time to dodge the sword coming down on her. Letting her go, they spun around at the same time to find a spry, statuesque figure with his sword already drawn towards them.

"Wei Bo," James murmured, his sword ready.

"James Norrington on the _Black Pearl. _Indeed this will be a pleasure." He lunged at him, only for Elizabeth to block his advance at the last second. He met her eyes with a look of deep contempt and soon dominated their parry, about to drive her off the side of the ship until James countered again. A two-on-one battle ensued, Elizabeth remembering the strategies Will had taught her. "One day there won't be a time limit," he had said when she complained the time was up but he prolonged their sparring. Thank you, Will, she thought before risking the offense. Her endurance would thank him by keeping her alive.

* * *

Jack zigzagged past the soldiers, all of them firing onto his ship, their half-shut eyes concentrated on what lay in front of them, not what ran behind them. Pistol still in hand, he hustled into the galley and threw open the cupboard drawers, forks and knives flung every which way. It was as good a place to start as any, he thought, knowing even Beckett would not be arrogant enough to wear the heart on his person in the middle of a battle. Smoke that blew across the deck seeped in under the closed door.

"You!"

"Me?" He turned, Mr. Mercer standing behind him with one of the discarded, sharper knives in his hand. Wasting no time, Jack clamped onto the handle of the pan nearest to him and smacked Mercer across the face with it before sprinting back onto the deck.

"Marty! Marty!" He waved his arms.

"Aye, Captain?"

"Bring her closer!" he yelled over the gunfire.

"Why?"

"So I can get back on!"

* * *

"That be the last of it!" Gibbs wailed as the last bottle of rum exploded against the side of the _Endeavor. _

"We'll have to fight. Unsheathe your swords." Will gave a lost look at Tia Dalma and Mary, both still with him. For all their powers, hand-to-hand combat left him doubting them. "Stay here." He shook his head on the way up to the deck, wondering if he would pay for that decision. He could not wonder for long, however, when a burly Asian pirate pounced on top of him. Will wedged his sword in between them and lodged the whole blade into the gargantuan to drive him off of him.

Springing back to his feet, he heard the cock of a pistol just above his ear.

"Move and you're dead," the soldier said. Nostrils flaring, Will let his sword clang to the deck. He did a double take when he saw Jack back aboard the _Pearl_ in an identical situation, only with Mercer pointing the pistol.

"Did you find the heart?" he tried, already knowing the answer.

"It's not in the galley," was all Jack said with dry self-loathing.

Will lifted his head to search for Elizabeth and found a pile of men holding onto her, rendering her immobile. James was next to her, a dagger held to his throat.

"The _Black Pearl _belongs to me," the man with the dagger said. "As Sao Feng's successor everything entitled to him is now mine."

"Wei Bo, ye cunning codpiece," Barbossa said to him, pushing his way through the gathered crowd. "I might have known Sao Feng would be leavin' his Piece of Eight to such a formidable knave. But what be the meanin' of draggin' the East India Trading Company into all this?"

"That all falls on…where is he…ah." He stopped in front of Jack. "Jack Sparrow. Such dishonor there was when you were last in Singapore."

"And ye thought that involved me somehow? Doesn't seem quite right."

"Whoever might have started it," Wei Bo growled, gnashing his teeth. "It is certainly now to be finished. Mr. Mercer is ready to take you to meet an old acquaintance of yours."

"But you and I have just gotten reacquainted," Jack tried. "We'll just have to reschedule with the various other old acquaintances."

"Ye don't want to be takin' Jack too far from the rest of us, Wei Bo," Barbossa said. "There is his lordship to consider."

"What do we need the pirate lords for? We have lasted this long without them gathering."

"We have lasted, but not thrived, especially seein' as how we now have Calypso who needs the pirate lords for her resurrection."

"Calypso? You have Calypso?" Wei Bo turned his attention from Jack.

"If you're done with him then…" Mercer began to drag him away. "Do it usually take so long to gain control of a ship?"

"Forgive me. Mr. Mercer wishes me to leave some of my crew here with the _Pearl _since she is now a part of my fleet." He narrowed his eyes. "So, Barbossa, let us see your Calypso and maybe I will continue to Shipwreck Cove with the rest of you." Peering over at Mercer, he continued, "Our ships will be sailing closely together enough for us to take our time searching for Sparrow's Piece of Eight. Well? Where is she? Why hasn't your goddess come forward?"

"Here I am."

All eyes turned towards Elizabeth, still held by three men who promptly released her. She marched up to Wei Bo with her chin parallel to the ground.

"Elizabeth…" Will warned.

"He wants to take me to Shipwreck Cove and he shall," she said slowly. "If you let the _Pearl _sail with her own crew."

"You're Calypso?" Wei Bo whispered.

"Drunk is more likely what she is," Jack spilled out, but Wei Bo did not tear his gaze from her.

"Mr. Mercer, you may take Sparrow to your ship…and I shall take this one aboard mine."

"Wait." Governor Swann ran forward. "You must take me aboard as well."

"No!" Elizabeth ordered, finally torn away from Wei Bo's leer.

"Who are you?"

"I…I am her attendant. Surely you didn't expect a goddess to be without attendants?" Swann sputtered, shoving his hands into the pockets of his trousers to keep from wringing them.

"Attendants? And where is her other one hiding then. You!" He pointed to Gibbs. "Come forward."

"Thanks a lot, Governor," Gibbs muttered.

"Take these three aboard the _Empress_," Wei Bo said to his men nearest him. "And make sure Calypso has every comfort she desires. We will leave you to continue your journey to Shipwreck Cove then, Barbossa. We will see all of you there directly." He took one last look at Jack. "Almost all of you."

Within the hour, the _Endeavor _and the _Empress _sailed side by side, leaving the remaining members of the _Black Pearl _wondering what to do next.

* * *

**A/N: According to Behind the Name's website, "Wei Bo" means "mighty wave." "Let Slip the Dogs of War" is from _Julius Caesar. _The full quote is, "Cry 'havoc' and let slip the dogs of war."**


	11. Down to a Sunless Sea

Elizabeth laid her head back and draped her elbows back behind her. A deep sunken tub on a ship, she laughed, feeling a twinge of shame for reveling at the fact she was at last having a bath, and on the way to Shipwreck Cove, no less. Wading through the water to the other side of the tub, she sorted through the glass bottles arranged around it. Unscrewing the lid and inhaling the contents of one, she poured some of it into her water. Jasmine.

"I hope everything is to your liking, Calypso."

Elizabeth crouched as low as she could without her head going under, corralling all the soapy bubbles she could around her. Wei Bo laid a crimson robe over the back of the chair and loomed over the tub.

"Sir, it is beyond impolite to watch a lady bathe."

"Forgive me. I simply wanted to see what I could before you were set free."

"So that is the plan you're going to be in favor of when we meet the brethren court?" she asked, her eyes searching the room for…she didn't know what. A sense of dread flooded her mind, sending a tremor down her back. She held her breath. "There are several men who would rather keep the seas for themselves."

"It is what the goddess wishes, and why should a goddess be anything less than what she is?" He pulled at a sash on his clothing and with one unruffled motion, removed an endless shirt and folded it in the seat of the chair.

"If you truly felt that way, you would be too in awe of a goddess to try to look upon her," Elizabeth said with gritted teeth.

"It is too tempting for man to not look." His leer deepened. "I had hoped you would have seen fit to offer some of your power to me." Fingering the Piece of Eight strung around his neck, he turned his back to her. Glancing back at the bottles, Elizabeth reached her arm out and took one, keeping it under the bubbles with whitened knuckles. "Who knows? Perhaps I could be the one to release you."

"I should think I would be the one to choose who would release me, if I choose to be released. You assume too much."

"You will choose to be released." She recoiled at the sight of Wei Bo plopping into the tub with her, parting the waters and coming to her like a shark. "The sea is not something to be contained. It is all too easy to see it in your eyes, Calypso, that untamable restlessness, that promise of adventure that lures men to you. Give me your gifts, Calypso."

Gripping the stem of the bottle tighter, Elizabeth's back slammed into the base of the tub at Wei Bo's lunge. His hands on both his shoulders, he was forcing her down with a strength she had underestimated. Jerking her shoulder free, she hurled her arm and brought the bottle down on his head, shards of glass flying into the soapy water. Wei Bo wavered from one side of the tub to the other, holding his head and moaning. Shaking his head, he charged for her again just as she was trying to lift herself out of the water. Reaching for his shirt, it wound around her hand when he plunged her back in the water.

With a throaty scream, Elizabeth stuffed the shirt into his face, shoving him until her arms cramped. Spotting the glare of a piece of glass floating along the water that had splashed out, she took it and cut away with a blind, primal rage.

* * *

After the two men threw him into the main cabin, Jack turned to see the chair in front of the desk facing the windows, its back to him. Tiptoeing over to the long cherry wood tables, he lifted a few lids of the various chests and boxes on them, a few of the items he recognized from not so long ago…tied to a chair, watching a fiery poker close in on his forearm. Coming across a match between an ivory tusk and a statue with several winding arms, he picked it up.

"It's not here, Jack, so you can stop looking for it."

"What's not?"

"The heart of Davy Jones, what you've been searching for ever since you relinquished any ties to a promising career and sold yourself to chaos." Beckett turned the chair to face him, his icy blue eyes boring into Jack.

"Freedom isn't chaos. At any rate, it seems as if you've done just fine without my…promising career, as you called it." Paintings of the man covered several feet of each bulkhead, stark lights and darks accompanying such romantic images as Lord Beckett on a horse with its front legs curled in the air, a sword in his hand. It was a bit too much like walking into a shrine for Jack's comfort. He half-sat on the table, his hand landing on a small, cold ball. Taking a quick peek, he saw it was an iron grenade. Not a bad thing to add to one's pockets. At least there was a way now, he thought, shutting out the thoughts running through his mind, cringing at how easy it would be to fall apart at the distress of someone else. Come on now, mate, you're Captain Jack Sparrow. If she can finish you off, Wei Bo is no match for her.

"Back to the matter at hand, I should think you would still be a little put off if Davy Jones were to know that instead of languishing in his Locker, you are right here, alive and well."

"You talk as if you would just hand the heart right over to me." Jack collapsed into the opposite chair and put his feet up on the desk, being sure to scrunch the neat stacks of paper on top of it. "And neither you nor I make a habit of doing something for nothing, so why don't we simply name our terms?"

"Of course. That's just good business. Do name your terms." Beckett rose and loomed over him, hands behind his back.

"That would depend on what it is you want from me?"

"I want everything from you," he whispered in his ear, too close to see the other side of Jack's lip curl up in disgust. Pretend you don't mind it. Pretend you don't mind it. "I want to know who the pirate lords are, what's to be done with the Pieces of Eight, where Shipwreck Cove is."

"That's a lot to want."

"And it's not all I'll take once I know it."

Jack shuddered, but summoned a nonchalant grin and propped himself out of the chair. "You'll find my terms quite more agreeable. The Pieces of Eight are specified trinkets in the possession of each pirate lord to not only prove their pirate lordship, but, in this case, to free the sea goddess Calypso and thus return the power of the seas to the gods rather than men. I want my freedom," he said before Beckett could even open his mouth. "I want no more East India Trading Company ships chasing me or my ship."

"Done," Beckett agreed with a deadpan tone. "The rest?"

"Of course, I can't really have my freedom if I don't have a crew with which to sail my ship." He walked around the room, running his fingers alongside the marble chess set. "Yes, indeed, the other eight pirate lords would consider me a laughingstock to be sure."

"There are nine pirate lords?"

"I have no qualms in handing over Barbossa to you, shifty, oily sort of man, and naturally the homunculus and the gangly one would follow suit." He picked up the queen on the board and took her with him to the most atrocious sight in the entire room.

* * *

Wei Bo slumped under the water, only his bare back visible. Dead. She couldn't breathe, red swirls of blood curling through the water like silk ribbons. Gasping, she gave a mute scream, the coherent part of her brain slowly waking and warning her to look at the edge for glass before she lifted her naked, vulnerable body out of the bathtub. Wrapping the crimson robe around herself, she tied it off and scanned the room.

* * *

"Did ye make this doll of ye yourself? Wait until I tell Captain Jocard the head of the East India Trading Company has time to whittle."

"Jack."

"Oh yes," he said, turning back around to keep from looking at Beckett's eyes bulging, his fingertips kneading the surface of his desk, cheeks huffed out slightly. Jack had seen that same demeanor on a few climaxing whores. Where had he left off? Think, Jackie boy. "Ah, and how could I have omitted Turner? You roped him into this in the first place, all for this." He dangled his compass in front of Beckett, not daring to open it. "Since you enjoy working with him so much you may have him. The rest stay with me onboard the _Pearl."_

"Even Miss Swann?"

Bugger. Stay with the plan. Stay with the plan.

"Ah, the little devil herself. You may have to fight Captain Wei Bo for her."

* * *

Pushing the heavy stone stool into the tub left her close to exhausted, but she could still muster a half-smile at the fact it didn't splash all the water out. It sunk to the bottom just as she knew it would, Wei Bo's long shirt tied to it. Throwing her robe off one more time, she sat at the edge, legs dangling in the water, and tied the rest of the shirt around his neck. It dragged the body down just enough for her to position the bubbles over his back.

Sliding out and throwing the robe around her, she squinted. Yes, it was impossible to see him when you first walked in. She crossed to the cupboards for something to mop up with, wondering how long it would be before the doorknob would jiggle.

* * *

"Then you will ensure the pirates come outside to me?"

"Provided you stay a decent distance away, of course. They're expecting the _Pearl _and the _Empress._"

"Of course," Beckett said, slipping back into his chair, letting out a choppy exhale. His legs spread, head leaning back—it seemed worth pressing the matter. Jack had seen whores in such positions.

"Then you'll agree the best place for me at the moment is then on the _Empress _towards Shipwreck Cove and not bringing up the rear with you."

"Oh, Jack, all they need is your Piece of Eight." Beckett sneered. "We can just toss that over to them."

Well, that was all he needed. He lit the match against the desk and pressed it to the grenade's short wick. Scurrying out of the cabin, he saw Beckett dive under his desk just before he slammed the door and held it shut with his body. The explosion wouldn't be much, just enough for time to swing across to the _Empress_. Wei Bo, even worse than Sao Feng was, no matter what the latter's personal offenses were, Jack decided with pursed lips. The boom finally came and Jack ran up to the main deck, hoping he was not too late to stop some horrid act that he hoped was not occurring on the next ship.

"Stop him!" he heard as he swung across.

Long Asian swords awaited for him on the _Empress's _main deck, but the momentum of the rope helped him bypass them. His hand caught the deck to keep him from tumbling once he let go of the rope. With rapid dexterity, he ran down below to the remaining decks.

"Jack!"

Jack followed the long narrow corridor to find Gibbs and Governor Swann. A rope bound Gibbs' wrist, leading up and over one of the beams and back down to Governor Swann's tied wrist. Creative, Jack mused, slicing them free.

"Why didn't they just put ye in the brig?"

"We be strangers in a strange land, don't forget," Gibbs snapped, rubbing his wrist. "What's the plan?"

"My plan was to come over here. You're due for the next one. Where's the murderess?"

"Wei Bo took her further down in the ship. I don't like this ship, Jack. Such a labyrinth I 'spect a minotaur to come out any second. Hey!" His thick hand landed on Jack's back before he could take off for the stairs. "How's about a bit of protection, eh?"

"Here." He handed him his pistol before running back down the corridor. "Do not lose that!"

Bugger, now he had to rely only on his sword. Down the last step, he stopped right in front of Mercer.

"You're not the only one what can swing across, Sparrow." Jack blocked Mercer's sword with wide eyes. Best take the offense, mate, or they'll be no getting out of it. At last he was the one moving forward, driving Mercer backwards with short, sudden attacks. Across a number of closed doors at each side of them, Jack bent at the waist and swiped at Mercer's thigh.

"Not so fast there!" Mercer cried, jumping back and kicking Jack right in the gut. Stumbling backward, Jack felt every bit of the momentum that sent him breaking through a door and landing in something wet.

"Jack!"

Jack scrambled out of the tub when he saw Elizabeth, stopping to feel what had broken his fall.

"Your handiwork?" he asked, poking the dead body weighed mostly underneath the water.

"Never mind. Wait!" She ran back and drove her arm down into the tub, yanking off Wei Bo's Piece of Eight. "Now go!"

It was not long after they hurried back into the corridor that Mercer came at them again. Jack was ready with his sword. Careening the fight to the side, he knew if he didn't think of something fast, he would lose.

"Where's everyone else?" God, she always made demands when he was preoccupied with other matters.

"Up one!" he said in time with his dodging Mercer's blade. Hearing her bound up the steps, he shifted back towards the open door leading to the bathtub.

* * *

**A/N: Ah, I've ALWAYS wanted to write a bathtub attack scene and I finally got to! Yay for me! As you may have noticed, there are bits of dialogue and plot points in here that are in the actual AWE movie. This is intentional because 1.) there are some really wonderful points in AWE I wanted to expand on and 2.) fate seems to be a big part of this series, so some of the things that occur in AWE will occur in this fic. We'll just get to them via an alternate route. But don't worry. There will still be some twists and turns. I hope you've been pleasantly surprised by a lot of things that have happened so far. Please let me know! I would like to thank whoever Fedah & Colozamia are because they've posted AWE's script online and it's the one I've been referencing for this fic as well as my upcoming parody of AWE...after I've finished posting COTBP and DMC, of course. Last but not least, "Down to a Sunless Sea" is from Coleridge's _Kubla Khan. _**


	12. One Word Frees Us

"You let her go in your place?" Will shouted, pinning Tia Dalma against the bulkhead, the ship's guns off to the side.

"Mind yer tongue, Turner!" Barbossa snapped at him before shoving him aside. "Had ye not gone against the rest of us there would have been no need for no one to go nowhere. As fer you, ye parasitic fishwife, so much good yer little angel's done fer us. One might think you don't care what happens to any of your pirate lords."

"Don't forget who it was dat made ya here in da first place to talk to me dis way," Tia Dalma said, showing her inky teeth. "As for Mary, all of ye left da Locker. Dat's what I needed of her."

"Meanwhile we're all separated with the East India Trading Company and the _Flying Dutchman _and the _Empress _after us," Will snorted.

"I said I'd free ya, Tia Dalma, and I mean to, but I never said nothin' 'bout treating ye like a lady. Take her to the brig and don't listen to a word she says. We got enough poisons to worry with."

Pintel and Ragetti led Tia Dalma away, leaving Will to climb back up to the helm. He relieved Marty and continued to steer them towards Shipwreck Cove.

"Will? Do ye agree with Barbossa? Am I useless?" Mary hovered next to him, a purplish hue framing her white, sheer face. "It's not as if I was what I was when I was on a ship like this, ye know, all heart and no head, raidin' any ship we saw out in the distance just to make ends meet. This role don't come naturally to me, nor does it to ye, methinks."

"No, it doesn't."

"Answer the question then."

"I don't find you useless, Mary. But it doesn't seem as if fate is really on our side. I had hoped you would have been an omen of good things to come, finally some smooth sailing, literally and figuratively. And now, now I don't know if I need to stab that heart or not. I made a promise to my father, Elizabeth and I aren't promised to each other anymore so it's not as if I would be leaving her, but…I've never been one who was unsure of myself or who I was, Mary."

There was a pause, and he turned to stare back at her, her face pensive, locked in on him and yet, looking past him, maybe decades past him.

"I'm going to help ye, Will, ye can be sure of that. Calypso, she, she's taken a fancy to this crew, more than the others, and so have I. There is a way to change the facts if ye wish it and I could be the one talkin' her into that change, ye see. It don't take much to steer Calypso's mind from one direction to another. Sometimes she's more like the wind than like the sea that way." She edged closer to the helm. "But the tide rolls in and Calypso thinks one way. It roll the other way, well, she does something different. It is why men and women love her…and hate her. I'm going to be of some help to ye, Will, to everyone."

"I'm not going to ask requests of you."

"If it eases that mind, this'll be helpin' me a might, too." She faded from his view down to the brig. Calypso, hunched over in the center, laid an ear to her locket, soaking in the haunting melody. She had stretched the chain until it grew taut and rubbed her thumb and forefinger against it, writhing and weeping. It was a familiar sight to Mary over the years, that locket never far away from the woman, the goddess, who held her in her power. There was just as many times when she wished she could take a mallet and silence the thing forever, just a tool that shackled her to her past, as there were times she wanted to take her thumbs and wipe Calypso's tear-stained cheeks.

"Ye still find Will Turner up to the task?" Mary asked.

The locket snapped shut.

"Mary. I tell ye to guard da crew. My ideas are my own."

"What of another good man to be the captain of the _Dutchman _in his place? There be others on this vessel, one of which ye almost tempted yourself back in the Locker." She flew straight through the bars and took a knee next to her. "He's had his heart broken before, easier to see than shine in swag, so why not let him keep it in a chest where no more harm can come to it?"

"James Norrington does have a touch of destiny about him, but him not a pirate lord."

"So he was just to be a conquest that night when you spoke his name to him? Just a whim?" Mary's eyes laughed, remembering how much her debtor loathed being called on her own flaws.

"He woulda been much more dan a whim, but what a conquest," she said wistfully before ogling her locket again. "But it don't change him not a pirate lord."

"I'm the guardian of this ship and crew, Calypso," Mary said. "That roughly means he ain't a pirate lord yet."

* * *

Jack had had enough swordplay and threw Mercer into the bathroom, closing the door behind him, knowing it would only hold him for a few seconds. Bounding up the stairs, he heard the sound of his pistol being fired by Gibbs.

"I'm out!" he heard him shout. Announce it to the whole world, Gibbs.

"Bash them on the head with it then!" he heard. He had a feeling he would eventually warm up to Governor Swann. He at last spotted them both fending off more red-coated soldiers on their way up to the main deck.

On the stairs, Jack whirled around to find Mercer panting from hacking away at the door. Dashing up to the main deck, he blocked yet another attack and positioned himself to the edge of the enormous ship. The sun blinded his vision, a stark contrast from the dimly lit underbelly of the ship. With a sharp kick, he knocked Mercer straight into the water, the splash as reassuring as church bells. Jack peered down only to catch a figure half-swimming, half-floating back from whence it came. It shocked him every time he saw him, the cold efficiency coupled with some sort of erotic fetish in torturing others. He ran his fingers over his brand. Where had Lizzie gone off to now? There she was, at the helm, surrounded by a horde of disgruntled faces. Already there was a nice distance between them and all the other ships.

"You are not my captain!" one of the crewmen barked at her with folded arms.

"This says differently," Elizabeth said, waving Wei Bo's Piece of Eight at him. "We're going to Shipwreck Cove whether you like it or not."

"You don't know that's what Wei Bo would have done!" they countered. Jack smirked. He knew well enough Lizzie Swann avoided negotiation like she avoided corsets and keeping to the Code.

"Where is he? What have you done with him?"

He couldn't have asked for a better cue.

"With the likes of Cutler Beckett up until recently in your company, it should not come as a shock if one or two or a dozen of you were to just disappear. Have ye not heard the man controls the seas?" he asked, placing his arm around one of them. "Such an obdurate, rancorous rapscallion as that might off any number of men on a whim. Now, though 'I am forbid to tell the secrets of my prison house, I could a tale unfold whose lightest word would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood…' Nary is a place more protected, more guarded, more defended than Shipwreck Cove, especially from such villains with which you traveled. Savvy?"

He ignored the fact that amusement, gratitude, and self-righteousness were all battling it out on Lizzie's face, instead nodding along with the man whom he had placed his arm around.

"Glad we're all in agreement. Let's leave said captain at helm and you all…trim the sails! Look lively now!" With smug eyes, he swaggered closer to Elizabeth.

"'A plague upon it when thieves cannot be true one to another,'" she recited with only a hint of scolding.

"I don't believe I said anything that was untrue, did I?" He pretended to think. "No. I was right. I didn't say anything that was untrue."

"You suggested it."

"And here you are claiming captaincy with an ill-gotten Piece of Eight, and I'd wager I know why."

"They would have never gone to Shipwreck Cove if they knew what had happened, at least not with us."

It reminded him too much of the _Dauntless _that night, a portentous blue mist veiling the caverns of Isla de Muerta, the two of them alone on the deck, not looking at one another but immersed in their own proximity. She had played with the railing when she had mentioned neither of them told Norrington about the curse. She'd called him Jack for the first time, the first time that he could remember anyway, and he wanted to hear it again and again from her. He wanted to hear it whispered to him in conspiracy and gasped out of her in ecstasy and everything in between. Since then Elizabeth had been one surprise after another, and yet, not a surprise, as he seemed to understand the thought process behind everything she did and had a suspicion that it was the same for her with him. Didn't help she was quoting Shakespeare in nothing but a silk robe.

"And how do you plan to stave off a mutiny until that time, Captain Swann?"

"Surely having Captain Sparrow on my ship has to count for something," she said, allowing them both to smile at the horizon in front of them. "Still, you probably shouldn't have led them to believe Beckett was responsible, Jack."

"Ah, but you allowed them to be led to believe, love. One's just as dangerous as the other."

"We have a full day before we reach Shipwreck Cove. I suggest you don't open your mouth and say something to them we'll all regret." Even the stern tone couldn't disguise the happiness radiating out of her, the captain of her own ship, sailing it in open water. Maybe that was the underlying reason why he loved her.

So you decided then, mate? It's to be love again?

It was never anything but.

He took advantage of the lumbering ship swaying to come closer to her, just enough to detect the potent aroma of jasmine about her. Good Lord, it was sometimes as if she had been custom-designed for him.

"More often than not, I don't regret the things I say," he said, tensing out him arms to keep them from swinging around her. He hoped it wasn't his imagination that noted a silent giggle in her eyes, her pouty lips tucking into her mouth. "I wouldn't speak them if that was not the case."

"You've never regretted anything you've said?"

"No," he answered, copying her knowing look and calling her bluff.

"What about something you haven't said?"

"What would ye like to hear?"

Flushed, she jerked back towards the horizon, grasping the helm tighter than before, a few heavy chest heaves accompanying her.

"Elizabeth. Thank Heaven," Swann sighed, Gibbs close behind him. "Where are we headed?"

"Shipwreck Cove."

"Aye! That's the plan!" Gibbs slapped her back harder than Jack figured she had expected. "Make sure ye keep a watchful eye once we get to the shallows, miss. Ain't for naught it's called Shipwreck Island, where lies Shipwreck Cove."

"I'll manage," Elizabeth said.

"Not in that, you will, if we're going to a place called Shipwreck Cove, which, I'm sure, hosts a hive of pirates," Swann said, moving in as if he were to take the helm. "Go get dressed."

"Father…"

"No. Bad enough you're caught out here in it amongst…amongst mixed company," he said, glaring at Jack. What? He hadn't been ogling her, and yet he did not figure it would be much help to venture to say he had seen several women in considerably less. Well, if Swann had to loosen up in regards to violence or…other matters, it was probably for the best violence won out. "Elizabeth, I'm still your father and I can promise you a whole ship full of men will not listen to you if you are wearing just a robe!" Jack winced at how much he was failing to keep the discussion at a whispering level. "Please. You'll want to wear something warmer, besides. Be practical here. She'll want to wear something warmer, won't she, Captain Sparrow?"

Don't laugh, mate. Don't laugh.

"Yes. Yes, I daresay she will." He cleared his throat to keep from chuckling. It didn't help Elizabeth was looking at him with her "shut it" look, a look she took from him. Don't worry, love, I won't be going down there with you to pick something out.

"Fine. I suppose it's only fitting the rest of the crew should be able to help me find something. You want the helm?" She held one of the spokes with only one arm, her eyes daring her father.

"Me?" Swann sputtered.

"Jack will show you."

"Jack will do what?" Jack challenged, for once not charmed at all by her opulent smirk.

"Everyone must pull his weight, Jack," she said, starting for below decks. "I won't be long."

For a moment, they just looked at each other, Jack unsure how to even address the man.

"I…I suppose I'll just take the wheel then," Swann said, holding the helm like an awkward boy dancing for the first time.

"Wheel. This, sir, is a helm. You are taking the helm. It's not hard, mainly just keep your eyes in front of you and not at the flagstaff. Gibbs."

"Fear not, Captain. I'm sure you'll be a great teacher," Gibbs laughed, smacking his lips at the sweet rum from his flask.

"With as little conspicuousness as you can manage, there's a body below in the tub that needs disposing of," he whispered to him.

"For the love of Mother and Child, Jack, why do I have to do it?" he blurted out, spitting out some of his drink. He glanced around to make sure no one else had heard his outburst.

"Because I'm teaching."

* * *

The time passed, Jack noted, seeing a few clouds hover over them, all the while sitting on the top step.

"You may go now, Captain Sparrow, if you have things to do. I feel I have the hang of it."

"Aye, that you may, but one can't help but fear that if I were to leave this little step, we would run afoul of our course, or hit a reef, or meet some other catastrophe. It is nice to be addressed by one's title, though, sir, and I do say thank ye for that." Will had better be taking care of the _Pearl_. That was all he could say about that.

"Your ship? Is it, is she, all right?"

"So long as Mr. Turner does not see fit to do anything stupid with her, she'll sail true." Was this a ridiculous conversation? He couldn't tell, but it felt like hours. He'd take the helm here soon, guide the _Empress _through the murkier waters ahead, a fitting setting to foreshadow facing Teague again. It would still be several hours before they would see the Cove and yet he could already see Teague's face, hear the smarmy threats oozing out of his mouth.

"Ah. Will. Captain Sparrow, may I ask you a question?"

"By your leave."

"Do you plan to kill my daughter?"

Jack snapped his neck in Swann's direction, squinting his eyes at him. Did he not hear right? Was this some aftermath of the Locker?

"Beg pardon?"

"She told me what she did, you know." No, he had not known. Devious, unpredictable, rum-burning Lizzie Swann, captain, no less! How could he kill the other half of himself? One really should learn to be angrier with her if the situation called for it, he thought, before Swann spoke again. "I have to know this journey to Shipwreck Cove isn't just so you can throw her overboard or maroon her or whatever it is you miscreants do."

"Shipwreck Cove is a long-established safe haven for said miscreants. It existed before me and it will exist after me," he said, stalling.

"Captain Sparrow, my daughter has been absolutely obsessed with pirates since she could walk. I'm the governor of Port Royal, or at least I was. Believe me, I've heard of you and what you are capable of doing. The story of you carrying around a pistol with one shot for ten years is particularly distressing and I want to be sure there are no such intentions aimed at my daughter."

"I carried that single shot for ten years because Barbossa was out of my line of sight for ten years and shooting at him would have done no good in those ten years," he said. "There would have been no need to wait had it been otherwise."

"So you've forgiven her?" Swann asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I think I'll be takin' that helm now, mate." He moved in and succeeded in taking the spokes from him. His recent behavior dictated, if the concept of karma was true, something good should come his way. Maybe Gibbs would walk up at this very instant all in an uproar about some dainty calamity with an easy fix and pry him from such an interrogation. Maybe the waves would part just right that he would be able to get them all to their destination in the blink of an eye.

"I know I owe you her life, but if you plan on taking it…well? Answer me, man! How do you feel about Elizabeth?"

"I love her," Jack said.

* * *

**A/N: Whew! Several things to cite here. First, Jack quotes _Hamlet_ right before he starts describing Shipwreck Cove to the crew. There are also a few lines which are directly taken from the actual AWE, sort of salvaging what works from that movie. Elizabeth quotes _Henry IV_. Yes, she can pull Shakespeare lines out of nowhere too when she feels like it. Wish I could. The chapter title comes from Sophocles. "One word frees us of all the weight and pain of life: that word is love." I also need to thank "The Phrontistery" website for letting me know all the vocabulary that goes into ships and sailing. I learned a lot from the tours of the _Elissa _in Galveston, Texas and the _Berkeley _in San Francisco (with a PIRATE MUSEUM below decks!), but other than that, I have no experience in this field at all, so if you do, please let me know if I've made any errors. Please read and review!**


	13. Better to Reign in Hell

James calculated another three hours before they would catch sight of Shipwreck Cove, cursing at himself for needing to use Jack Sparrow's charts, Jack Sparrow's quills, Jack Sparrow's sextant.

"We're coming up on it, ain't we?"

"Mary, you startled me." At the table centered in the cabin of the _Pearl_, he sat face-to-face with Mary, able to see the door right through her. The riddle of her existence, the fact she was solid enough to touch others but still transparent boggled his mind enough to make him forget he was using Jack Sparrow's dividers, sitting in Jack Sparrow's chair.

"Sorry, 'tho it tends to be a habit with me, best be gettin' used to it, Admiral." She glided over to the cupboard, tinkling together a pair of glasses when she grabbed them. With her other hand, she took a bottle from the cupboard by its neck and proceeded to pour out the contents. "Wine, it seems. A pity it should go unused."

"Wine grows sweeter with age," James said, grimacing at his glass. "I, I think we've all taken enough advantage of Captain Sparrow's belongings." He rubbed his temple with his fingertips. Truly hell had frozen over if such statements were coming out of his mouth. Mary pushed the glass towards him. Chardonnay, he guessed, watching the delicate bubbles flutter up to the top of the glass. He took a swig. Jack Sparrow's Chardonnay. At least the bloody pirate had taste.

"There we are, Admiral! Puts a bit of hair on the chin and chest if ye ask me." She guzzled down a bit herself. "An angel's senses are a bit dulled. Can't rightly say I enjoy it as much as I did before. Ye know, there was a man we sailed with who you remind me of, right bit of handsome and danger. Rackham his name was. Hanged, the poor bugger. Now you, though, ye got a bit of brains about ye, and I don't see ye makin' as many mistakes as poor Calico Rackham did in his short time, God rest his…"

"Come to the point, Mary."

"Well, sir, I was just sayin' that if ye was to be the leader of all these pirates, there could be great things in store for ye is all." He stared back at her, knowing she was trying to gauge a reaction.

"You think I would do well in this kind of environment, is that what you're saying?"

"Could say it a thousand times, Admiral, and it would not lose one drop of me sincerity. Aye, sir, tis a pirate's life for ye."

"I don't think so," he snorted, returning to the chart.

"Maybe not," she sang, hopping onto the desk and crossing her legs, so weightless not even the feathers of the quill pen moved. "Maybe it's more a covert position that would be best for you. Do ye know the story of the Pirate King, Admiral?"

"Mary," James said, "When you have dealt with pirates in the manner I have, you learn quickly that they aren't the kind of people who would ever do as a King commanded, much less vote for one. There hasn't been a King for generations."

"Perhaps it be because no one has yet displayed the knack for it."

Knowing it was a childish reaction, James pretended he didn't hear her and immersed himself in the charts, his back arching at what consequences angering an appointed angel might be.

"Don't seem to matter much, though." She flew to the door, her hand encasing the knob. "I mean, ye know where Shipwreck Cove is. That's not something many an admiral is privileged to know, nor any lords of trading companies either. Yes, yes, I do think Lord Beckett would be very interested in knowing where Shipwreck Cove was, especially if he heard it from the lips of someone who was once respectable. God knows there ain't many what fit that on this old girl." She stroked the bulkhead of the ship. "A beauty, though, to be sure, and fast. Yes, I do think if Beckett could have the location of Shipwreck Cove and the _Black Pearl _he'd just about die."

She left him, opening the door and letting a thick ray of sunlight in before she departed, shrouding him back in the shadowy cabin.

* * *

Will sat in the galley alone, relaxed by the lurching of the ship on the waves. To think the motion used to make him seasick, he thought, letting out a small laugh. Second nature now, as was retreating to a quiet, unpopulated corner of the ship and temporarily forgetting about the past and what all lied ahead. Crossing his arms, he propped his legs up on the long built-in bench that provided seating and yawned.

He had almost succeeded in emptying his mind when he heard his name called with great excitement right outside the door. Mary threw it open and sat across from him on the other bench, copying his pose and staring at him with a satisfied smile.

"You look awfully proud of yourself," he said.

"I am. I don't want to tell you until it's all come to pass, but I know who can stab that heart for you."

"What?"

"Oh, a pirate I must make of him, but it shouldn't be too hard. He had already turned the heart in, turning pirate against all of ye, should be no trouble to get him a lordship."

"Norrington? Mary, what are you plotting?" Helpful, kind, clever, even…even beautiful, he still had some fear in his eyes when he looked at her. Her idea of a plan, although, he admitted, they did always work out in the end, usually involved the rest of them going to great pains.

"Oh, Will! He's in there right now wonderin' if it t'would be better for him to alert Lord Beckett Shipwreck Cove's location, or at least promise it to him. Any minute he'll jump ship, and when he's alone, he'll think about freein' Calypso. Won't take much. Your brig can only hold her until she grows restless."

"A pirate lord has to free Calypso," Will argued.

"Right. And there is a fresh Piece of Eight for the taking over on the _Endeavor_. I can always sense when someone I've guarded has died." She waited for him to react. Clever, he thought, easing back. Norrington would find the Piece of Eight and would get to Shipwreck Cove by whatever means necessary. Only one question remained.

"And then he'll be convinced to stab the heart, just like that?"

"That might take a bit more convincing, I'm sure, but it don't take a cracked soul to do it. I told ye I'd help you. I doubt the other pirate lords would dare do such a thing."

Will could not take his eyes off her, so pleased with herself.

"How, how do you know that's what he'll do? You haven't known any of us for a long period of time."

"It don't take long to learn what a man can do and what a man can't do, Will. When you've been pirating a little longer, you'll understand."

He grunted at the irony. James Norrington as the captain of the _Flying Dutchman_? "You seem to have it all figured out."

"Yes, and this leaves you to do as ye please, go where ye want, be with yer father." She crawled around to be closer to him. "It's right enviable the kinds of adventures the two of ye will find together, off explorin' new things, goin' new places, but always with someone, always home, in a way. Aye, t'will be an enviable life for ye, Will. For him, too, seein' as how anything beats bein' on the _Dutchman _for so long. What did ye do before ye became a pirate?"

"I'm not a…I was a blacksmith. I had just made the shop I was an apprentice in my own before I…became a pirate, as you say."

"That's a trade what might come in handy anywhere for ye," Mary whispered, glancing down at his hands. She looked as if she were about to say more, but was transfixed on the rough calluses and scars up and down his hands. "I thought you was something like that. Calypso had visions of ye, holdin' the metal over fire, somethin' out of myth, ye was. Vulcan. Handsomer, though, with tongs and anvils everywhere. She'd tell it to me, that her Vulcan with a touch of destiny was on his way. But ye see, now yer fate's yer own. Freedom, Will."

"It could work, if he wanted to," he breathed, his heart racing, maybe at relief of not leaving its home. The clarity of her words seized him from his seat and placed him high above the clouds, looking at the whole world as one looked down over a map, master of whatever little spot he wanted to claim as his own.

"With her free, would you be able to end your servitude to her?" he asked, braving her etherealness to caress her wrist. Like cold satin, he traced up the back of her hand. Undaunted, he reached for one of her wings next. Solid, feathery wings that ruffled at his touch. "You would be free, too, free to do what you want." He could see her on some schooner or sloop, singing to herself catching fish, her skin able to bask in the sunshine, able to smell the salt in the air just as anyone else could. "I'll help you, too, Mary."

It was right after he said it that she leapt onto him and gave him a kiss, such a light, careful one he could barely feel it.

"I'm sorry!" she cried, purple returning to her. "I didn't…"

Will leaned over and found her lips, not moving once he reached them so the kiss would last.

"Mr. Turner."

Will leapt back to the edge of the galley bench, gasping at the shock of hearing his name called. His hand flew to his lips while his eyes averted meeting Barbossa's.

"I had thought as of late ye were the only one on board this ship who wasn't insufferable. A word, before you're too far gone?"

"No need to be goin' out with the crew. I know when I hear men that's smitten with privacy, I do. I'll just be seein' to what skies we'll be sailin' under." Mary flew out the door with an alarming speed, her head ducked down into her chest. What was he doing? Surely after calling off an engagement he needed time to himself. He nodded, assuring himself he could provide himself an appropriate amount of time. Yes. And no girls that were enslaved by goddesses either. That was just inviting trouble.

"Hmm, I don't suppose Miss Swann's departure warranted that bit of ardor?" Barbossa seated himself across from Will, elbows folded out in front of him on the table.

"We're no longer engaged," Will croaked out. "What is it you want?"

"Gettin' rid of me in an awful hurry, ain't ye?" he laughed. "Mr. Turner, I never would have thought you was the insatiable kind. Believe me, lad, as one who for ten years could do nothin' about the earthly pleasures—good things'll come to those who wait. Now, point and purpose. We've lost the Admiral."

"He's jumped ship."

"Aye, a longboat's missin,' flagrant hothead. Next thing ye know, he'll be pullin' up the stakes once more and settlin' into the name Lord Norrington. How'd ye know he'd be gone?"

"I…I had my suspicions."

"Well, if the _Empress _don't catch him, there be no way to stop him from reachin' the _Endeavor." _He rose and scanned the galley. "Ye sure ye and the lady are no longer an item?"

"Why so interested?" Will asked, balling his hands up into fists under the table. It had to be what a brother would feel to hear Hector Barbossa of all people show an interest in his sister, not to mention the image alone repulsed him. The memory of watching him take a dirty knife and slit her palm open tugged at him. She could do so much better.

"Don't be gettin' no ideas about me!" He wagged a finger at him. "Just thought I'd look after the wellbeing of the lass, make sure her fiancé was not dippin' into every honey jar he came across."

"You wouldn't have been so protective of her last year," Will snorted.

"She was a means to an end which proved false and nothin' more. Now, I can't speak for those who do show interest in her, though. Lord knows there're plenty of them about. But if it is no-never-mind to you, we'll just be concentratin' on the one of the lot that's gone and commandeered one of our longboats then."

"It doesn't change our objective." Will stood, once more pawing at his lips. "Shipwreck Cove is still where we need to go."

"Right." Outside, the held their hands up over their eyes to block out the blinding sun. Mary stood near the bow, mop in hand, swabbing the deck along with a few other crewmen. His eyes danced at how she always needed to be busy, always seeing to what someone else needed. Her form was so pale it almost looked as if the mop were moving on its own against the sunshine. Only three years left in serving Calypso. It had to be like the story of Tantalus, fresh ripe fruit and cool sparkling water always just beyond his reach. He ought to do it, for her and his father both, keep to his original promise to pierce the heart of Davy Jones.

"So ye and the angel wench?"

"Shut it," Will snapped, deciding not to follow Barbossa up the steps to the helm.

"A word of advice then—let's not get this one marooned with dear Jack, shall we?"

* * *

Elizabeth patted down the gold stitching of her shirt, a dark blue material almost as soft and light as silk, a massive leather belt hugging her, but still allowing her to breathe. The detail of everything made her love it even more, a proper captain's ensemble, she decided, crossing to the chair to put on her boots. Cloth-covered buttons near the end of her sleeves would take some getting used to, she thought, twisting her arms around while she laced her boots.

"Elizabeth? How's it coming?"

"You can come in, Father!" she called to the door, not even attempting to suppress her grin. "How do I look?"

"Like a lioness," he said with a proud smile. "Much as a captain should, I should think."

Saving her sword for last, she sheathed it and took a few steps, testing how agile she could be. Breathing a sigh of relief that she was just as nimble in Chinese or Singaporean garb as stolen Englishmen's shirts and trousers, she pulled her hair back to knot into a bun.

"How did steering the ship go?"

"Illuminating," she thought he said in a strained manner. Well, all of this has been quite an ordeal for him, she thought.

"Where's Jack?"

"At the helm now. Elizabeth, there's something I wish to…"

"Captain!" A young boy, probably no more than eighteen or nineteen, Elizabeth guessed, ran down to her. "We need you on deck. The men have found something!"

Elizabeth dashed up to the main deck and found the gaggle of men standing at the railing, covering whatever their discovery was. The loud foreign voices made her raise her eyebrow at them, giving them a stern look. If they were debating whether or not to hide something from her already, it would be a long journey to the Cove for them, locked away in a cold dark brig…

"Here, Captain." The boy yanked a bottle from one of the men and presented it to her.

"What's your name?" she asked, eyeing the greenish, short-necked bottle.

"Heng."

"Thank you, Heng." Uncorking the bottle, she pulled out a rolled-up scroll. Her father came closer to peer at the contents. Rolling open the rough parchment, she recognized the handwriting. "It's from Will." Her eyes ran down the single page. "Good God!"

"What's happened?" her father asked. She ran to the helm where Jack now had Gibbs with him.

"James took one of your longboats to go back to Beckett."

"How's that now?" Jack half-turned towards her with an utterly bewildered expression. Gibbs took the scroll from her.

"We got ourselves plenty to be worried about, and now this," Gibbs grumbled. Elizabeth glanced over at Jack, knowing his silence to mean nothing but the most pure and resolute frustration.

"Unless he has a plan," she sighed.

"If you mean a plan to lead them right to Shipwreck Cove," he finally said.

"If he meant to betray us, he wouldn't have been found out."

"Out in open water with only longboats as transportation doesn't leave one much choice, love. What else does William say?"

"This is where it gets a bit muddled," she warned.

"Oh, we haven't come about anything muddled lately?" She returned his grin only for a moment, meditating at what exactly he might mean.

"Mary may have talked him into it."

"Got a funny way of protectin' all of us, don't she?" Gibbs said. "What ye make of it, Jack?"

"May have talked him into it?"

"It says she came to Will to tell him that James would be leaving them soon, that she was happy about it, and the next thing he knew…" She threw up her arms, looking over at her father for some guidance. But he had been on this ship with them the whole time. Far from the first letter she had read from Will, it seemed more laconic than the rest, like there were details he didn't want her to know.

"I don't know what to make of that little faerie queen half the time," Jack admitted, hardly above a whisper. "What's she planning?" He tilted his face up to gaze up at the clouds, overcome with thought. It was nice to be on this end of his ideas, Elizabeth thought, so used to them running afoul and then learning about them after they'd happened. She looked forward to a glimpse at his process. "Mary wants Norrington on the _Endeavor_, which is tied to the _Dutchman_ as of now. Which one does it strike her fancy more? It may depend where the heart is…Gibbs." He motioned for Gibbs to take the helm, allowing him to pace. "She talks him into leaving and she comes to break the news to Will…" He stopped in mid-step and his eyes bored into the floorboards beneath him. His lips moved without voice. "Of course."

"Mind tellin' us?" Gibbs asked.

"She wants Norrington to stab the heart," he gave out a desperate laugh. "Of course! Oh, she's a sly, ambitious ghost, she is."

"Why on earth would she want that?" Swann finally spoke, mouth agape.

"So no one else will have to," Jack said simply, gesturing for the helm. He took it back from Gibbs and peered out into the horizon, calmer. "Lizzie, our brave Admiral just may be getting in over his head."

* * *

"I cannot be summoned like some mongrel pup." Davy Jones entered the main cabin of the _Endeavor, _glowering at Beckett, wanting nothing more than to take his claw and snap the little man's head right from his spine. The fop sipped from his tea cup, a circle of high-backed, velvet chairs surrounding the table that held the silver serving set.

"Apparently you can. We have a guest."

"Ah, so Admiral Norrington has returned to us," Jones said, sneering at James after he leaned his head out from the back of the chair. "Welcome back to hell."

"I've already been to your hell, Jones. Cheers." He took a sip from his porcelain cup, saucer in hand. "Oh, by the way, not that I make it a point to be acquainted with the man, but I'm sure Jack Sparrow sends his regards."

"What's this? What are you spouting at me?" He held his breath. It was not possible. It was not possible.

"We somewhat interrupted his rescue party, I daresay. But Lord Beckett was just filling me in on what all the two of you have been doing while I was gone. Ammand the Corsair? Tsk, tsk. I probably would have rated him dead last among the pirate lords…before I learned just what a pitiful pirate Sparrow really is, however. I still can't get over the fact it took you thirteen years to be rid of him and even then you failed."

"Well," Jones sniffed. "At least Ammand the Corsair lies dead as a doornail now. What else have ye not cared to tell me?" Soon, he promised himself. Soon the measly git would be sorry for wielding his own heart against him.

"You're acquainted with a person named Calypso, is that right?"

No. No, it can't be.

"N-not a person," he stammered. "She is a heathen goddess, a flighty, uncaring, hedonistic goddess and nothing more. The brethren court took care of her long ago. The world is well rid of her."

"That's odd," James said. "I just saw her in the _Black Pearl_'s brig. I do believe the pirates are considering releasing her."

"What? They cannot!" Pirates. Filthiest, dirtiest of Satan's devices to pollute the world. "The first court promised to imprison her forever! That was our agreement!"

"Your agreement?" Beckett repeated.

"Er…I was the one who showed them how to bind her. There is not a pirate lord among them who would dare free her!"

"If you felt that way, there would be no need to raise your voice, would there?" James asked. "I want Ammand the Corsair's Piece of Eight. You will free William Turner and the rest of your crew."

Jones once thought him a kindred spirit, one who wanted to understand the sea and yet didn't want to understand it but rather bask in it. And now here he stood before him making demands. One of his tentacles lifted and smacked his teacup right out of his hand.

"Those are steep demands, Admiral Norrington, particularly from one such as yourself who has been more than unclear about where his loyalties lay," Beckett said. "What is it you plan to give us in exchange?"

"Shipwreck Cove."

* * *

**A/N:** **"Better to reign in hell than serve in heaven" is from John Milton's _Paradise Lost. _Please leave a review!**


	14. Thou Hast Ravished My Heart

**A/N: Oh, jeez, I shouldn't post this so soon after posting the last chapter, but I just couldn't help myself. I don't own this series, but consider this a treat anyway, lol!**

* * *

Why would James do such a thing? Elizabeth tightened her grip on the spokes of the helm until her knuckles whitened. Didn't he know by now what Beckett was like? But he practically signed all their death warrants anyway when he delivered the heart in the first place, she thought, arguing with herself, rolling her tongue inside her mouth. But this was James. Yes, James sending everyone to their death.

"Penny for your thoughts."

"Father, do you think James does mean to betray us?"

"My dear, I have probably more faith in him than anyone else. Until it actually unfolds before my eyes, I can't see him doing it at all."

"That's how I feel and yet…I wish I knew what he was up to," she said. "Why else would he have gone?"

"I have no idea."

She turned back to the helm, that very statement distressing her more than actually knowing any dastardly plan could have. To not know, to be utterly in the dark—terrifying.

"I do believe we all have other matters to worry ourselves with."

"I do suppose that's true. Who knows? You'll probably have to take another shift at the helm before we arrive at Shipwreck Cove," she laughed, nudging him.

"There's been something I've been meaning to ask you," he said, clearing his throat. Elizabeth recognized the voice he used, her face falling. It wasn't one he used often, mainly at times when he felt the need to correct her rudeness towards a guest or talk her into leaving for England while he was springing her from jail. All that considered, she wasn't sure if she wanted to know what was on his mind.

"What is it?"

"Have you given up on any possibility of reconciling with Will?"

Elizabeth bit her lip. What was this? He wanted her to marry James and had been disappointed when she chose Will and now that she had un-chose Will as it were he was disappointed again?

"No, no there is no possibility of that."

"May I ask why not?"

"It just…" She bent her head down. "We both decided it would be better for both of us if we didn't. This isn't really the best time to discuss... You want me to justify it to you?"

"No. That's not what I meant. I meant to ask, if…" Why did he look as avoidant of the conversation as she did? He began it, after all. "Is there someone else?"

"What?"

"Don't make me repeat it, Elizabeth."

"You shan't have to. Heng!" Heng ran towards her, his eyes eager. "Take the helm. I'll be below decks if anyone needs me."

"Elizabeth, don't get angry…"

It stopped her dead in her tracks. Don't get angry. Why was she angry? Because I want to be, she answered herself, her hands flying to sweep a stray hair from her face. She jerked back around to face her father, giving out a great exhale. Just what was he getting at? If this was another quandary-inspiring "right decision, wrong reasons" speech, Elizabeth felt she would burst, thrashing her sword at whatever was in the main cabin, her cabin now, that could stand to be used for a scapegoat. Bubbling up within her was a deep fire of something she could not name, and her father's words only provided more kindling.

"What am I to say to that? If there wasn't you would tell me how foolish I was being and if there was you would talk me out of it! You were never attached to Will anyway and now you are? You wanted me to leave him to hang!"

"I want you to be happy, my dear, and this is something you need to ask yourself if you are to be so," he said, his heart filling his eyes.

"I can't talk right now," she whispered and disappeared below decks, her hand on her sword the entire time.

* * *

_"No, no, no, Father. It's 'drink up, me hearties, yo ho!'" Elizabeth pouted._

_"Ah, yes. My mistake." _

_That was enough to appease eleven-year-old Elizabeth, and she interlocked her fingers with those of her father and continued to walk along the surf, white foamy water washing up over their feet. When her father would simply hold her hand and listen to her sing her sea shanties, it could almost take away the pain of last autumn. Mother had conducted these walks with her even before Elizabeth could walk herself, setting her down to where the diminishing waves would cover only her knees. _

_"Elizabeth, I'd like to talk to you about something. It seems I'm faced with a rather important decision."_

_They paused their walk and he took a knee down in the sand to meet her eyes. She liked him best this way—his short dark hair only lightly salted with gray taking the place of a wig, a vest taking the place of a brocaded coat, and a true man-to-man talk the two of them pretended they didn't have when they were out and about in society._

_"An opportunity has come up for me to be a governor…in Port Royal."_

_"Where is that?"_

_"Well, that is the very thing, Elizabeth. If I were to take this position, we would leave England for the Caribbean. That's a long voyage, you know. Now, on the one hand, there would be fewer children for you to play with, especially other girls."_

_Elizabeth kept her eyes cool and focused while inside she ran through the images of every girl she knew in her mind and could think of none she would particularly miss._

_"It's going to be hotter than we're used to, it would be very difficult to ever come back to England, and you would have certain responsibilities."_

_"Like sailing the ship that would take us there?"_

_"Well, no. You would have to be the lady of the house. There would be more functions we would have to host as well as attend. Would you be able to manage that? But, on the other hand, the New World is a most exciting place to be. We would have a much larger house right on the water where you could go out and swim and we could take walks like this every night if you wished. And Elizabeth, I would make sure someone taught you to sail. If we were to live in Port Royal, swimming and sailing could be the difference between life and…" He stood back up and took her arm, clearing his throat. Elizabeth was used to this. They always spoke frankly to each other, but there would be times when her father would forget a child was his companion and would speak to her as she remembered the way he spoke to her mother. "You see it would affect you a great deal more than it would me, so it is truly up to you. But as I said, you wouldn't have to decide right away."_

_"When would we leave?"_

_"Oh, it wouldn't be for a few more months so we would have time to prepare. I daresay you'll already be twelve."_

_Twilight settled upon the coastline, a pink sunset casting their elongated shadows on the ground. She spotted a little bird, a runt, really, hopping along next to them before letting out a small peep and taking flight. She followed its path, lost in an exotic location of pounding cannons and scraping swords in an atmosphere that smelled of smoke and sugar._

_"Let's go."_

_"Really?"_

_"I want to go, Father."_

_"You know, I think this will be quite the experience for us," he laughed, swinging their attached arms between them. "It's time we sought something together, start anew."_

_"I quite agree," she said._

_"I shall make the necessary arrangements then." Memorizing the content lines around his mouth and eyes, Elizabeth saw another opportunity._

_"Father?"_

_"Yes?"_

_"Will you tell me a story?"_

_"Let me see…I suppose I know what sort of story you would like." He said it with narrowed eyes, but they soon softened. "One day I'm going to run out of stories about pirates, you see. But not now. There was once a pirate who was so skilled in the piratical arts that the Queen even knighted him. Do you know who this is?" She shook her head with bated breath. "Sir Francis Drake, so hated among the Spanish he was known as the Dragon."_

_The words washed over her much like the waves, the story of how he procured a fortune in gold in the very region in which the Swanns would soon be living._

* * *

It was the first happy memory she could think of, lying in one of the hammocks deep within the _Empress_, about to make berth in Shipwreck Cove within the hour. The ship lurched along, all the while her eyes strictly on the wooden planks above her providing something of a ceiling. A few men lied sleeping nearby, but due to size and silence, they might as well not have existed at all for the moment, providing her a privacy she relished and at the same time loathed. She should have just made use of her cabin, but she was not worth it yet. Closing her eyes, she recalled the illustrations from her books in her room at Port Royal—Lancelot and Tristan next to Henry Morgan and Grace O'Malley. Untouched for God knew how long, they rested on her bedside table, above her drawer. No one but her knew what all filled that drawer, not even her father or her maids. Upon opening it, one would find a few sentimental possessions, but it was the compartment underneath that horded her treasures. Bootstrap Bill's cursed medallion used to collect dust in it, but if she were to go back there today, the first thing she would do would be to rifle through that compartment and dig up her mother's pearls, a saved invitation to her parents' wedding, a few spiral seashells, an abandoned key she found on a trip to London, and the pressed petals of orchids delivered to her on her last birthday.

She didn't know how he had done it, just that he had, that he had thought of her often enough and highly enough to do it. She'd dashed off with them up to her room, the petals and greenery brushing up against her skin, and set the vase just right so the moonlight shone in on the flowers. Elizabeth had collapsed into bed, staring at them until she could no longer keep her eyes open, dreams of where they came from and who gave them to her lingering on her cold-sweated lips in the morning. That morning was the first time she had wondered it, but far from the last, and now it was the answer to that night's wonderings that kept her from returning to the upper decks.

She loved Jack.

All that energy spent in keeping herself from touching him when he was near that she had blamed on trifling lust, all that anguish she had thought was guilt and shame, all that concern for him she thought stemmed solely from the fact that she owed him her life a few times over—all of it had been love, even the…even that blighted day when she had not been sorry, convincing herself it had been for the greater good.

And here she was, just grateful Jack was finally speaking to her. Forgiveness still hung over their every conversation like a rain cloud, just out of her reach, along with uncertainty. Maybe at one time Jack loved her. She had almost been sure when he came back, standing on the deck with that rifle, the clouds opening for him, the rustling wind heralding his entrance. There were times even after not being sorry. She'd woken up with his arms around her! She knew from the corner of her eye when he was watching her, and she knew that knowledge meant she was watching him with just as keen an eye.

"Not sleeping, are ye, love?"

She cocked her head just to make sure it wasn't a figment of her imagination, him down here without his hat and coat…coming down to her level. She knew him well enough to know a coy answer would be more befitting for the moment than a heartfelt one.

"No, just dreaming."

"Can't imagine all you'd have to dream would be that pleasant as of late." He folded his arms and let his elbows rest on the ropes attaching the hammock to the bulkhead, forcing her to gaze up at him. Many a woman's had this view, she thought, blushing at her own tastelessness.

"I would think you of all people would know having one's very own ship can be very consoling."

"Aye, that it can," he sighed. "Have you felt her, darling, learned her creaks and quirks, her tolerances? She's quite the ship. There's a certain way they all move and once you find that, your ship will do anything for you. Or perhaps that was what I was interrupting?"

"Do as you please, Jack. We'll be docking soon and the Brethren Court can decide if I keep her."

"There won't be any debating that. Won't even be brought up. The Piece of Eight is in your possession and such a possession does tend to entitle one to a plethora of other possessions, namely one's own ship which is a means to acquire even more possessions." He shot her a smile. "Not a plan of yours, eh?"

"I don't make plans," she groaned. Her own future hadn't filled her mind since the days when she thought she would still be Mrs. William Turner, trying to cook a decent meal all on her own. Dreams and goals simply hurt too much and hope was about unbearable. Even now, in a moment she should be relishing, no pleasure could come. If she said she loved him, he wouldn't believe her. If she didn't say she loved him, it would be another day he wouldn't know.

"That seems a might out of character for ye then, seein' as how I remember a plan you thought up and executed all on your own that was most effective, nigh failsafe."

Elizabeth propelled herself out of the hammock and drew out her sword, her wrist shaking at the sudden weight and the confused expression staring at her.

"That's it! Have at it!"

"Have at waking the men?"

"Have at me! Come at me! I'd rather fall upon your sword than listen to one more reminder about what I did!"

"You want me to hit you?"

"Hit me, fight me. I can't stand to hear another word about that day. Here, I'll even improve your odds for you." She hung her sword on one of the pegs near her, still within reach, but that wouldn't matter when he cut off her arm. Her feet together, she lowered her arms down at an angle and exposed her throat, damning Jack for almost making her laugh at his half-bemused, half-horrified face. It would be her last moment of delight, rendering Captain Jack Sparrow speechless.

"If I wanted to do that, I wouldn't have wasted time with a sword," he whispered, his eyes gesturing at his pistol.

"I said anything."

"Anything?"

"Anything that will make you forgive me." Yes, she knew it was an absurd scene, challenging him with a hushed voice so as not to wake the handful of men scattered throughout the massive room. But not absurd enough to keep her from trembling. She closed her eyes.

They snapped open at the realization his lips were on hers, his hands scaling up the back of her head to cradle it, fingers sifting through her hair. All she could do was close her eyes and open her mouth, lost in the moment, lost in him. Shuffling backward, she stumbled back into the hammock, their legs still planted on the floor. Her arms instinctively wrapped around his waist at the same time she let out a moan. His kiss dropped down to her neck, a soft trail of unhurried love from her lips to her collarbone.

"I didn't think this kind of anything," she croaked out, feeling almost faint just from lifting her head up.

"Pirate." He shrugged, returning to her lips. It took no thinking at all for her fingers to curl into his shirt and pull it up over his head. He stood for just a moment and lifted her legs onto the hammock so she lay straight on it, pulling her boots off of her at the same time. Leaping up onto the hammock, he balanced himself and then went straight for her belt. Helping him slide her trousers off of her, Elizabeth pulled him back to her and kissed him, each little turning of their heads giving her confidence.

"Jack," she gulped, fighting for breath. He snapped his head up, his full attention on her. "I…I love you. I know I don't deserve for you…"

"Look at me," Jack said, cupping her face, his eyes lightening a fraction. "I love you. You do deserve it, and it ain't going anywhere."

Tears shimmered in her eyes, but he bent down and kissed them off of her, somehow at the same time managing to wriggle out of his trousers. She heard them flop to the floor and could not help but grin at the sound. Brushing her hair off of her neck, Jack leaned his forehead into it, grinding against her, waiting for her to allow him to enter her. It felt like years had been wasted between them and they were making up for lost time.

"Wait." Up on his knees, he tugged on a blanket that had been flung over one of the beams and threw it over them. "In case they sleep lightly."

"You think I'll actually scream?" she teased, the backs of her fingers grazing the side of his face. How stupid she had been, to deny herself, to deny both of them this.

"Lizzie, darling, I have every intention of making you scream."

* * *

**A/N: Thou hast ravished my heart with one of thine eyes is from The Song of Solomon in the Bible. I used this same quote in another one of my fics, but since I was on a quest to find the most romantic (and short) quote of all time, I turned to the Good Book once more.**


	15. Still Defying Fortune's Spite

The _Black Pearl _streamed towards the cove, a soft breeze whistling down its sails and into everyone's ears. Mary let the feathers of her wings join in, swishing them behind her. Three more years and then she could be rid of them, back to the strong, real body she had before.

"There's not been a gatherin' like this in our lifetime. What do ye think of it?" Barbossa asked her, keeping a hand on his hat to keep it from blowing off of him.

"Will they choose to free Calypso?"

"Aye, I think they will, lass. Ye forget I owe the witch that much," he said with a wink. "Suppose it'll free ye from her service, hmm?"

"I hope so."

* * *

They sat in a covered alcove on the deck of the _Empress_, both looking out at Shipwreck Cove, so fraught with boats and ships of all sizes Elizabeth widened her eyes to attempt to count them all, the rocky, almost mountainous terrain behind them and the shape of the cove itself reminded her of a castle with a moat around it. She leaned her head back against Jack, remembering picture books of such medieval fortresses with a drawbridge allowing passage over the moat and snow-capped mountains in the distance.

"Ain't all that impressive once you're in it," Jack said.

"What's the rest of the island like?"

"Like a town, really. Honestly, nothing impressive."

She felt his fingers slide in between hers, his eyes still on the cove. All ships should have such alcoves, she mused, savoring both the shade and the shield from the rest of the world so she could pretend just for a short while there was nothing outside the two of them.

"You're worried."

"You think so, love? What makes you say that?" She turned her head to catch his frown.

"You aren't saying anything."

"Ah. Sometimes that doesn't mean worry. Silence in and of itself can denote quite a number of things, really—thoughtfulness, contentment, exhaustion…"

"Worry," she said.

He kissed her hairline and caressed it with the hand that wasn't latched onto hers like his life depended on it. Closing her eyes, she nestled into him, hoping it would take forever to dock the ship.

"Lizzie," he said, clearing his throat. "What say you to spendin' some time together here?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, darling, I mean to say you're looking at a citadel, one that's lasted for centuries, hidden from every major form of government around the world. Not only that, but it's populated and frequented by every scurvy, iniquitous rogue and rascal imaginable. In other words, one is nice and safe once inside, and once outside, it's back to the likes of Beckett and Jones." She narrowed her eyebrows and hinted for him to continue, but he didn't humor her.

"Jack, I don't think we would be us if danger weren't lurking around every corner we happen upon," she laughed. She could feel a short laugh from him, too.

"You said 'us.'" He let his forehead drop down onto hers. "So you see, since I've been parted from you by death once before…"

"We said we weren't going to mention that!" she interrupted, twitching at the reminder.

"But I've only altered that arrangement slightly," he said, grinning at her. "And it's to stress a point."

"I have not yet heard any point." To make certain he knew she wasn't angry, she repositioned herself onto his lap and traced his jaw bone, fighting the urge to kiss him only for the moment, but the longer she took in those black eyes, the harder it was to resist. Fortunately, he closed them, luxuriating so much in her touch she wondered if he would purr. They snapped open and drank her in, the fingers of both their hands interlocked.

"Would you be my wife?"

"What?" Her ears burned at the question at the same time a wave of dizziness washed over her.

"Would you marry me here?"

"Jack," she breathed, tightening her grip on his hands. "Don't, don't ask if it's because you think we'll die." The thought of it, of it all happening to him again made her ill, and the sudden terror that something might happen to herself, that she would be unable to help him, unable to fight for him. On second thought, maybe it was the greatest reason in the world to marry.

"Lizzie, it's no such thing…well, it might play a part, but since I am not permitted to discuss such matters with a certain someone, a certain female someone," he squinted his eyes at her, "let me reassure her it is simply the good captain seeing an opportune moment and wanting to take it, wanting it more than he's ever wanted anything."

Beaming, she found his lips with hers, their smiles touching.

"I love you…and yes," she added, blushing.

"Ah, beautiful Lizzie!" He took her into a hold, his entire body much more relaxed than it had been, like her agreement to his offer was a sweet relief to a long-lasting torture. Cupping one of her cheeks, he kissed her mouth, her cheek, her earlobe. "Ye really have no idea what you do to me," he sighed.

"I love you," was all she could say, gazing at him with adoring eyes. She wrapped her arms around him, never more sure all dear Captain Sparrow needed was a deep, tight hug.

"I do not tire of hearing that."

"I love you," Elizabeth said again, slower, shifting again to straddle him. Tilting her head, she gave into his beckoning eyes and kissed him. Such a short engagement it would be. She couldn't imagine everyone's reaction. Would it come as a surprise? Or not one at all? If her father should see her now, perched on a pirate's lap. "It will take some convincing my father I shouldn't be committed to bedlam."

"Tell him I put a pistol to your head and made ye. He'd be more apt to believe it," he said dryly. "What do you think would be Mr. Gibbs's reaction?"

"Hmm, mild surprise and amusement. Barbossa's?"

"I'm surprised he didn't make the offer to ye first, seein' as how his yard probably grew nice and taut watching you eat last year," he chuckled, catching her hand before she could slap him. "I have a more challenging one for ye, love. William." A serious look came over him again, anxiety and concern written all over it.

"Will and I aren't engaged anymore."

"What? When did that happen?"

"During one of those quiet respites from all the danger you mentioned earlier." She bit her lip and breathed a sigh when he kissed her again, slower than the last ones, making it feel he were giving her something in it, his hands once again twirling about in her hairline. "I'll be a good wife to you, Jack."

"No doubt, love."

She scooted off his lap and curled back into him at the sudden stop of the ship, more of the crew on the main deck to secure all the lines. Her arm around him, she knew she needed to hide her disappointment in having to rise and supervise the docking of the ship.

"Ye want me to ask him for yer hand?" Jack said suddenly, possibly sensing her plan to get up and leave him temporarily. "I think I might be able to impress upon your father all the social and cultured graces of such a discussion. 'Not all the dukes of waterish Burgundy/Can buy this unprized precious maid of me./Bid them farewell, Cordelia, though unkind/Thou losest here, a better where to find.' Not appropriate?"

"I'm going to see to my captain duties now," she said, rolling her eyes.

"Ye don't think I'll do it?"

"Oh, I know you will do it!" she laughed. Standing, her hips rolled back to his, already in pain from being parted from him. "Just don't quote _Lear. _And don't shoot him. And don't get upset no matter what he says. It won't change anything."

He let go of her hand and whispered to her, "I'm marrying Elizabeth Swann in a matter of hours. Nothing can make me upset."

She carried the words with her all the way to the bow of the ship.

* * *

Watching Barbossa pounding a cannonball on the gargantuan, splintery table like a gavel, Jack adopted an exceedingly put-out expression to throw at him.

"As he who issued summons, I convene this, the fourth brethren court. To confirm your lordship and right to be heard, present now your Pieces of Eight, my fellow captains."

Captain. As if he had a ship. It didn't matter, though, he thought, tapping his Piece of Eight when Ragetti came by, the lords filling it with their trinkets like a collection plate at church.

"Those ain't Pieces of Eight," Pintel whispered to Gibbs. "It's all pieces of junk."

"Aye, the original plan was to use nine Pieces of Eight, but when the first court met, the brethren were to a one, skint broke."

"So change the name."

"To what? 'Nine Pieces of Whatever We Happened to Have in Our Pockets at the Time?' Oh yes, that sounds very pirate-y."

"Jack, ye have to part with it sometime," Barbossa said, rolling his eyes at him.

"When we've put it to a vote and shot down that inane idea of yours to free her, I'll tap on it again, mate, just to show ye it has no need to be going anywhere."

Growling at him, Barbossa turned back to Ragetti.

"Mr. Ragetti, if you will."

"I kept it safe for you, just like you said when you gave it to me."

"Aye, ya have, but now I need it back." He ignored the taller, spindlier man's whine and popped his wooden eye right out of his socket, the act enough to make Jack take a step backward, his face contorted.

"Might I point out Ammand the Corsair does not have a reputation of being a habitual truant?" he announced to the court, the nine lords and their respective entourages cramping up the room, although, he had to admit, he and his company brought in the most stragglers.

"Ammand the Corsair is dead!" they all heard. From the entrance, James Norrington appeared, dropping a small pewter goblet into the bowl with the other Pieces of Eight.

"That is the Corsair's Piece of Eight!" Chevalle cried. "He made you the captain?"

"Just giving the title away now," Jack grunted, feeling Elizabeth's elbow go into his rib.

"Listen," James continued. "Beckett knows this location. He has gained control of Davy Jones and they're both very keen on destroying all of you. What do you plan to do?"

What was he planning? Jack narrowed his eyes in thought only to hear "We fight!" come from Elizabeth's lips. Yes, there would really be no choice in the matter. Quite the puzzle, that Jamie-lad.

"Fight? You are young," Mistress Ching sniffed. "Shipwreck Cove is a well-supplied fortress. What reason have we to fight if they cannot get to us here?"

"There is a third course." Barbossa, hands hooked into his belt, patrolled the table. "In another age, at this very spot, the first court captured the sea goddess, and bound her in her bones. That was a mistake. Oh, we tamed the seas for ourselves, aye, but opened the door to Beckett and his ilk. Better were the days when mastery of seas came not from bargains struck with eldritch creatures, but from the sweat of a man's brow and the strength of his back alone. Y'all know this to be true. Gentlemen, ladies. We must free Calypso."

A chorus of dissention swept through the crowded room, echoing up to the high rounded ceiling.

"Shoot him!" Jocard ordered.

"Cut out his tongue!" Villanueva demanded at the same time.

"Shoot him and cut out his tongue and trim the scraggly beard!" Jack joined in, no longer fighting the urge to laugh. Bloody hell, nothing was going to come of this.

"Wei Bo and Sao Feng would have agreed with Barbossa," he heard one of Elizabeth's crewmen hiss with enough spite to tempt Jack to turn and actually engage in some tongue removing, but Will stepped forward, his mouth open ajar to speak.

"Calypso has always been our enemy! She will be our enemy now," Jocard said.

"And it's not likely her mood has improved," Chevalle added.

"This is madness," Will whispered under his breath.

"This is politics," Jack reminded him.

"Meanwhile our enemies are bearing down upon us. How did the first three courts manage to agree on anything?"

"Probably lots of shooting and tongue-cutting."

"It was the first court what imprisoned Calypso, and we will be the ones to set her free, and in her gratitude she will see fit to grant us boons," Barbossa tried once more.

"Whose boons? Your boons? Utterly deceptive twaddlespeak, says I. Cuttlefish. Let us not, dear friends, forget our dear friends the cuttlefish. Flippant glorious little sausages. Pen 'em up together and they'll devour each other without a second thought. Human nature, isn't it?...or.... or....fish nature." Jack stole a glance at Mary, hidden behind so many of their crewmen she had not yet roused any fear or murder attempts of the court. She beamed at his statements. "So yes, we could hole up here well provisioned and well armed and half of us would be dead within the month, which seems grim to me any way you slice it." Mistress Ching shuddered. "Or, as my learned colleague so naively suggests, we could release Calypso, and we can pray that she will be merciful. I rather doubt it. Can we in fact pretend that she is anything other than a woman scorned, like which fury hell hath no? We cannot. We will have to fight."

"You've only ever run from a fight," Barbossa argued.

"Have not."

Ye have too!"

"Shot you, didn't I? Listen to all the slander and calumny! Cuttlefish, as I said."

"As per the Code, an act of war, and this be exactly that, can only be declared by the Pirate King."

Hang that Code, Jack thought, clenching his fists to retain his good mood. Lizzie. You're marrying Lizzie soon. Teague can't possibly ruin that. He listened to Barbossa call upon Teague to enter.

"Se Sumbhajee proclaims all this to be folly!" one of the man's attendants cried. "Who cares…"

A shot rang out, echoing with such thunderous volume everyone silenced. The craggy face and piercing eyes Jack knew only too well would be behind him now, one of the hooked nose's nostrils flaring up a fraction.

"Code is the law. You're in my way, boy."

Jack sidestepped without turning, Teague's crimson coat caught his eye, the long braids and dreadlocks falling against it like birds against a sunrise. Behind him, two ancient men in vests carried up the Code. Giving out a whistle, Teague petted the little dog that came with the key ring.

"How did…" Ragetti breathed.

"Sea turtles, mate." His long, ringed fingers scanned the Code, turning the page once, all eyes on him. "Barbossa is right."

"Hang on a minute." No one knew the Code that well as to find the appropriate section in a matter of seconds. He locked eyes with Teague for a split second before lowering them to check. "'It shall be the duty of the King to declare war, parlay with said adversaries…' Fancy that." Teague gave him a smug look. "Ye know what you're doing, at least."

"Do you?" Teague snorted back. Slightly hunched, he swaggered to a chair off at the other end of the room, ornate enough to be a throne, and picked up his guitar, etchings of flowers around its hole. He strummed a few notes.

"There's not been a king since the first court and that is not likely to change," James spoke with folded arms.

"Why not?" Elizabeth asked when Jack returned to her side.

"King's elected by popular vote and we're all a might self-servicing," he said, taking advantage of the crowd to take hold of her hand.

"They're pirates. They ought to be craving a fight."

"I'm inclined to agree with ye, love." He let go of her and wedged his way through the crowd.

"Where are you going?"

"Wedding present," he whispered to her with a smirk, ambling to the other end of the table.

"I call for a vote," James said. "James Norrington."

Capitan Chevalle, the penniless Frenchman."

"Se Sumbhajee votes for Se Sumbhajee," the attendant said. Like clockwork, Jack smiled.

"Mistress Ching."

"Gentleman Jocard."

"Elizabeth Swann."

"Barbossa."

"Villanueva."

"Elizabeth Swann."

"What?" Her eyes went wide from across the table. Teague snapped his head up and surveyed him. The look of deep gratitude and excitement washing over her face almost made him climb up over the table to kiss her. Freedom, love. Freedom to live up to your potential. The two of them shared a look amongst the wild outbreak of bickering.

"Am I to understand that you lot will not be keeping to the Code then?" he asked, hearing the guitar playing come to a sudden halt.

"Very well," Mistress Ching said, standing. "What say you, Captain Swann, King of the brethren court?"

"You'll prepare every vessel that floats," Elizabeth said. "At dawn, we're at war."

Se Sumbhajee stood, his head just over the table. "And so we shall go to war!"

The flood of people started for the door, pulling their swords from the globe. He saw Elizabeth pull Heng aside and whisper to him, probably naming him first mate, he pondered, avoiding Teague's stare.

"The _Pearl _will be ready at dawn, but we have Calypso in the brig," Will came to him, sweat glistening his neck.

"Good lad. Ah, Calypso. Tell you what. We'll set up a nice, non-pin barrel hinged cell right here in this cove for her. What say you to that?"

"The further she is from the battle, the better." Will lingered, his large brown eyes seeming to inspect Jack with a suspicious eyebrow with which he was intimately familiar by now. "King?"

"Aye."

"Maybe you do know what you're doing."

"Jackie."

Jack cringed at that name, unable to really contemplate Will's meaning. From the corner of his eye, he saw him already leaving. Bugger.

"Alone at last," he sang, crouching up to Teague's chair.

"So you want to fight, eh? Just be lucky that ship of yours can outrun the _Dutchman. _Wouldn't want you to go back to the Locker."

"I won't be."

"Now then," he said, setting down his guitar. "You'll be coming in the back with me for some food, real food. And I don't want no guff or negotiating out of it."

Jack followed him.

* * *

**A/N: "The phoenix hope, can wing her way through the desert skies, and still defying fortune's spite; revive from ashes and rise." The chapter title is a quote from Miguel de Cervantes. I stole A LOT from the movie script here, so another special thanks to Fedah and Colozamia for posting the entire script online.**


	16. The Thing Which God's Eye Named Not Good

Mary rushed back to the _Pearl _before anyone could see her, clasping her hands together. True, he wasn't King, but James Norrington was a pirate lord without a scrap of loyalty to any of the others, except maybe to Elizabeth, but that didn't matter. He held a strong mind, that one, but it would not take much to persuade him to free Calypso on his own. Yes. She could feel real skin wrapping around her soul, real hair in place of this shapeless corona flagging around her. Three years. Ha! T'was more like days now.

"My sweet! You come for me," she heard from below decks. He couldn't possibly be down there already. Crouching down, she flew down the stairs and positioned herself in one of the barrels near the brig, concealing her glow.

"You were expecting me." Her mouth dropped open at the sound of Davy Jones. Davy Jones here on the _Pearl_! She'd promised she would take care of this ship and her crew. Promised! And yet here he was.

"It has been torture, trapped in this single form, cut off from the sea, from all that I love, from you."

"Ten years I devoted to the duty you charged me," he said, ten years of rehearsing this moment more than evident to Mary. "Ten years I looked after those who died at sea, and finally, when we could be together again, you weren't there." There was a pause, a choked quality about his voice, the sound of fighting back tears. "Why weren't you there?"

"It's my nature," Calypso said after a long pause. "Would you love me if I was anything but what I am?"

Cruel woman, Mary shook her head. She'd heard the story a million times, but this time, it clamped over her heart and squeezed it. She could almost feel hers breaking by proxy.

"I do not love you."

"Many things you were, Davy Jones, but never cruel. You have corrupted your purpose, and so yourself, and hid away what always should have been mine!"

"Calypso!"

It was something out of the stories Annie and Calico would tell at nights under the stars, a hornpipe or two in the background, lovers reuniting after such incredible odds. 'Journeys end in lovers' meeting,' she'd always heard. Love. If nothing else, it inspired faithfulness. Would Calypso even allow herself to be freed, knowing what all that entailed if she still loved Jones? But Calypso was fickle, faithless. To break her vows or oaths or promises once was to break them always, wasn't it?

"I will be free," Calypso said, "and when I am, I will give you my heart, and we will be together always…if only you had a heart to give. Why did you come?"

"And what fate have you planned for your captors?" he asked, ignoring her question.

"The brethren court?" she snarled. "The last thing they will learn in this life is how cruel I can be!"

Mary bit her lip, willing her tears to dry. She could not be freed, not now. She'd kill them all. She listened to the tragic Davy Jones once again promise his heart to her. Risking it, she lifted the lid of the barrel an inch. Gone. Gone like her plans. Gone like Will would be if Calypso neared any of them. She had to go back and warn them.

* * *

The broth trickled down Jack's throat, warming everywhere it touched, the modest wooden kitchen not where he expected Teague to spend any of his time, especially standing over a cauldron. He supposed it was Teague's way of giving him a semblance of home, primarily after showing him his latest acquisition.

"For twenty years you've been harping on me about not bringing ye back Mum's body and that's what you did with it?" He had gaped, unable to take his eyes off his mother's head, shrunken and wrinkled so he could hardly see anything of the fiery Italian eyes or the fierce long hair that would linger over his bedside to tuck him in at night. He took another gulp of soup. There were other matters to see to, he reminded himself.

"Your mum would have wanted to go into battle with ye," Teague said, sitting next to him with a stein of ale, pushing an identical one towards him. "Still a might stunned you chose such a course. What do ye make of all these new lords?"

"Who, James Norrington and Elizabeth Swann?" He laughed. "Ruthless, the pair of them."

"Ye know he's a pirate hunter, don't ye?"

"I do, escaped his clutches on more than one occasion. We most assuredly need soup and ale in front of us whenever we should meet. It would give me the patience to bring ye up to speed."

"Oh. Your hanging. I heard about that. Bollocks, I said, to the whole pretense about ye taking hold of two parrots and havin' 'em fly ye to your ship. My Jackie had something better than that plotted out, always had, daft as your old man and as stubborn as your mum. Well? Ye gonna tell me how ye dodged a hanging only to be newly rescued from the Locker of all places? Or should I just wait until after this war?"

"No, no, you don't have to wait until after the war," Jack muttered. "I'll tell ye."

* * *

"Will? Will!" So many rooms, Mary sighed, opening one and slamming it and then gliding down to the next one and repeating the pattern.

"Mary? Come in here before someone sees you." Will ushered her into the room, a modest ivory bed and tiger-skin rug the only contents, besides a large black chest at the foot of the bed, opened and containing only Will's boots. "What's happened?"

"Will, I'm so sorry! We must find another way."

"Another way?"

"Davy Jones came to see Calypso!" she wailed, her diamond tears streaming down her colorless cheeks. "She means to show the brethren court her wrath. We cannot free her in the state she's in. Oh, I know they didn't vote to do so, but we both know pirates are a might used to doin' what they want to do, don't we?"

* * *

"Mum would have said yes," Jack said, gripping the back of his chair, his elbows jutted out in front of him.

"You're a might old to be usin' that tactic."

"Still, my argument remains the same. Why, it was just the last time we were together ye gave me a nice father-son talk about the subject. I remember it well, one of us on either side of prison bars…ye reaching out to choke me…"

"A year, ye said, you've known her?"

"Teague…"

Teague coughed.

"Fine. Father, I'm not asking permission here, so why are we discussing it as such? I'm asking you to perform it, and there are a plethora of other captains here, probably more gathered here, that she is King of, I might add, than anywhere else in the world. We can take our pick. But I asked you to do it, now please either go with me to conduct said ceremony, sit down, or at least turn to the side so I don't have to see me mum's head bobbing about on your hip."

For a moment, Captain John Teague's eyes glimmered, his shoulders relaxing. Lifting his hand, he ran it over the top of Jack's head.

"Go ask her father, boy."

* * *

"It's all right. Don't cry," Will said, lifting up the corner of the blanket on the bed to wipe her cheek. Her tears left a sparkling stain on it, like a trail of stardust. "You know, I'm sure everyone here has been in more than a few dangerous scrapes. You forget Elizabeth, Jack, and I had to fight a horde of pirates who couldn't be killed, couldn't even feel pain, and at the same time make sure my blood fell into just the right treasure chest. I can only imagine what the other pirate lords have gone through. You, look at you! You're the great pirate Mary Read. How many times did some great peril befall you before you were caught?"

"All good things must come to an end, Will," she whispered. "Not as strong as I once was, ye know."

"Even so."

It didn't escape him that if Calypso were to be freed by anyone now that it would free Mary and yet she still mourned the very idea of it.

"You know," he continued. "For a pirate, you're very selfless."

"I could say the same about you," she said, curling up to him and laying her head on his shoulder.

"Stay here," he said, constringing his whole body. It was too fast, all of it. "I'll alert the King about what you said. I'll be back soon."

Closing the door behind him, he passed a dozen men lugging crates down the corridor, all preparing for war. Weapons, rope—anything could be in such hulking boxes that took two men at a time to carry. Their muscles shook at the strain. At least they weren't spending their time devising ways to remove Elizabeth from power, he shrugged. The lamps on the wall between every room had been lit, providing an amber hue and firm dark shadows.

"Jack!"

The pirate stopped in midstep, his mouth stretched down in annoyance. Will had learned over time to ignore it.

"The time has come to move Calypso out of the _Pearl._"

"Well, that is serious enough to warrant some time," Jack heaved, his arms hidden in the pockets of his coat. "Is this all on a whim, or has there been some development?"

"Davy Jones has been to see her. She means to do the brethren court harm." He kept following Jack down the corridor built into the caverns of the Cove. It would lead them out to the docks if no frenzied passersby ran into them.

"Then I was right to dissuade the court from freeing her. I'll accept your gratitude for so well thought-out a strategy later."

"Where were you going in such a hurry?" Will trotted a few paces to match his stride.

"I'm not in any hurry."

Outside, afternoon darkened almost to dusk, every ship filled with its crew adding more fire to its guns. A few men sat with their legs dangling off of the pier polishing their pistols and whistling. Only the _Pearl _rested empty, save for Gibbs ordering Pintel and Ragetti to catch up to Cotton and Marty in mending one of the sails.

"Anyone could just go down into the brig and free her without any of us noticing," Will said.

"Aye, but so long as I still have something on my person, said freeing cannot be done," Jack said with a grin. "At any rate, where do you proffer we stow her, eh? William, this is a being that brought a man back from the dead and knew all the intricacies of how to salvage another man back from the dead. Therefore it can be assumed she is only in there biding her time."

"At the very least someone should guard her!"

"Aye, that, sir, is a stroke of genius. Mr. Gibbs!" He stood on the planks that would lead up to the upper deck.

"Jack! She's lookin' sharp, she is! Hungry for a fight."

"Do you speak of my ship or the pestilential wench in her?"

"Oh, er, the ship. We been leavin' the pestilential wench alone."

"Ah. Well, I brought a foreman to keep an eye on the…" he trailed off, glancing over at Pintel and Ragetti. "…those who require a watchful eye." Before Will could argue, Jack took his shoulders and prodded him up the planks to the main deck at the same time Gibbs ran down it. "You were right all along, Will, that the goddess needs someone to guard her at the very least and we all know you are far from the very least."

"Jack!"

"Mr. Gibbs has other business to attend to," he called, their backs to him. "I bid thee good night!"

"I hate him," Will growled before turning towards the four pairs of eyes staring at him. "Well, what are you all staring at? Back to work."

* * *

Elizabeth saw to the _Empress _first, a few of the other men warming up to her and showing her around the massive vessel so she knew every inch of it. Her firepower alone had the potential to decimate the _Endeavor _should the two come close enough together. Loaded, she left Heng to guard the ship for the night, only one more matter of business before she could find Jack, a million ways of thanking him for his wedding present to her entering her mind.

The sight of James, her one more matter of business, wiped the smile off her face. Just outside the room he had chosen for the night, she considered her timing perfect.

"James."

He stood stoic, not bothering to come and offer her his arm as he always had in Port Royal, but they were a long way from that.

"Evening, your Highness."

"James, what are you doing? You don't even have your own ship. You snuck off to go back to Beckett and you're suddenly back as a pirate lord? He's outside waiting, isn't he?"

"Elizabeth, yes, he does think I'll be leading all of you out to him in an ambush. But the court elected to fight. As long as he still believed pirates would betray other pirates, he would heavily underestimate them. It's his weakness, Elizabeth, his confidence in himself."

"You really are thinking like a pirate, aren't you?" she breathed, not sure to be relieved or appalled at this new ability.

"It's the best way to guarantee your safety."

Biting her lip, Elizabeth shook her head at the floor, the lids of her eyes at half-mast. She looked back up to meet his burdened eyes.

"Don't do this for me," she said, her eyebrows lifted for emphasis, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from saying more, that it was beyond stupid to still want to marry her after all this time, that he had given no indication of anything when they reunited in Tortuga except an insistence that he go with her to find Jack, but she had pawned that off as desperation, lack of alternatives. It took every fiber of her being to refrain from slapping any remaining feelings he had for her out of his mind.

"So here's where you've been hiding, love," she heard Jack approach with Gibbs beside him, both of them eyeing James. "And how do you fair tonight, Com…Ad…Captain Norrington, pirate lord?"

"I was well up until now," James said with gritted teeth.

"It's still a step up from rum-pot deckhand, though, ain't it?" Jack taunted. "Of course, who among us has not risen from such lowly stations? I myself had been a powder monkey, just a lad, on the _Diana _it was, 'tho I have to say all the names somewhat ran together after the _Pearl _found me. When you have a ship of your own again, you'll understand." He gave his shoulder a slap. "And now here we are, thirty-six, pirate lords, and about to embark on a much long-awaited event, ain't that right, Lizzie?"

"Much long-awaited," she agreed, rolling her tongue around again to keep from laughing.

"I despise it when you call her that," James said.

"Then you won't much like me calling her a fellow Sparrow then, mate."

"That's tellin' him, Jack! Wait, what?" Gibbs asked.

The color evaporated from his face, she noticed, his eyes lowering towards hers, narrowed.

"May I speak to you alone?"

"James, promise me you won't try to free Calypso on your own," she pleaded, knowing the bitterness he felt barred her words from him. Lowering her voice she added, "I know it seems sudden…"

"Yes, yes, it does. Goodnight, Miss Swann." He slammed his door behind them. A thunderbolt could not have jolted her as much. She threw her back against the wall, her brow knitted. She'd already considered their friendship lost when they'd called off their engagement, and yet it somehow managed to be lost again. Goodness, she'd made a habit of doing that, she snorted at herself. At the sensation of Jack's hand on hers, she nestled into him.

"It doesn't have to be tonight," he whispered.

"What are you talking about?"

"_Noblesse oblige_, love." He played with her tendrils of hair too short to be in her bun with a sad smile. "It can wait. A King going into battle can't have too many thoughts weighing on her mind."

"Jack." She clasped the back of his head. "'Loneliness is the first thing which God's eye named not good.'"

"Don't do that to me, not while I'm trying to be a good man for ye," he said, an amorous glint in his eyes. He kissed her forehead and the corner of her eye before settling upon her lips, bestowing them with a bout of short kisses, each one lingering more and more until she closed the gap between them and deepened the embrace.

"I'll, er, just be leavin' the two of ye alone." Gibbs shrugged, casting his eyes downward.

"No, no, I'm done," Jack sighed, still looking at her, cherishing her, loving her with such an intensity Elizabeth had to protest.

"Marry me tonight, Jack. As your King…"

"If you want another witness to it…" Her father approached them with Teague next to him. The image alone resorted both her and Jack to a series of eye blinks. "Here I stand." He bent down and kissed her cheek, a single tear drizzling down his own.

"I knew I'd warm up to you," Jack said with a deadpan delivery.

* * *

**A/N: "Journeys end in lovers' meeting" is a quote from _Twelfth Night _(also used in a fun way in the 1963 movie _The Haunting_, but I digress), but Mary doesn't know that's where it comes from. Noblesse oblige is a fancy way of saying "with great power comes great responsibility." "Loneliness is the first thing which God's eye named not good," is from John Milton's _Paradise Lost. _This was one of the hardest chapters to name because I couldn't be sure what the overlying theme of it was. **


	17. To Unpathed Waters and Undreamed Shores

Jack collapsed onto Elizabeth's bare chest, his sweat trying to flood the slowing heartbeat dazzling his ear. He closed his eyes, listening to it trying to soothe itself, the rhythm of it calming his own. A hand clasped the back of his neck while another one traced his backbone. Loving hands, his wife's hands, he reminded himself with a tired smile. Sliding out of her, he rolled over next to her on the bed, half on his back, half on his side, and gathered her up to him, her head resting just above his collarbone.

_"We be gathered here today to join..."_

_"Elizabeth Swann."_

_"Elizabeth Swann and Jackie..."_

_"No."_

_"Son, ye impossible shit! Jack Sparrow."_

_"It is me legal name, ye know."_

Her hands continued to memorize him, dancing over his knuckles and the bones in his wrist. Burrowing into her hair, he exhaled, his body so heavy it felt like he was made of lead.

"Where did you learn that?" she yawned.

"The whole thing, or the variation?"

"Variation?"

"Of course, love. I picked it up and added my signature expertise to it." Holding her combined with a soft solid mattress underneath them was lulling him to sleep faster than he expected. He could hardly remember what he'd just said. "One might say I invented it."

"One or dozens?"

"Oy, now, don't think I squandered my best on whores. This was saved for you."

"Just like a husband, weaseling out of trouble." She snuggled deeper into him.

_"I do."_

_"I do."_

_"You may kiss your bride."_

"Just a like a wife, to nag." Waiting to be elbowed or slapped or at least given a stern glare, he lowered his face just enough to find her already asleep. He brushed a strand of hair out of her face and resumed his position, closing his eyes. "I've saved the best of me for you."

* * *

Right. Jack had been right, Mary thought, her lips tucked into her mouth in worry. Who was to say what Calypso might have in mind once there was no human body to limit her? The speculations of raging whirlpools and howling winds had kept her awake all night, although the actual need for sleep had fallen by the wayside long ago.

Her pounds on the door would sound like casual taps, she knew, hearing a groan, a stifled giggle, and then some shuffling before Elizabeth opened the door in nothing but a shift.

"Mary. Is everything all right?" Her hair tussled over her face with an all-too-obvious afterglow, there would certainly be no prizes awarded to anyone who correctly guessed why Elizabeth had only opened the door a crack, Mary thought.

"Not meanin' to disturb ye, Sire, seeing as how it ain't dawn just yet. What be your plans for Calypso?"

"Calypso isn't part of any plan," Elizabeth said. "She might as well stay on the _Pearl _so no one will have time to free her."

"And what of Beckett? He'll be expecting Captain Norrington to hand something over to him."

That shook the Pirate King, she thought with a smug satisfaction, watching her bite her lip and set her jaw in contemplation.

"He doesn't know about you," she whispered to herself. "That's good…" She craned her long neck back into the room. "Not much longer until dawn. Ready Will and James. And Barbossa. And Mr. Gibbs." She slanted into an apologetic stance. "I'll have it settled. Then go keep an eye on Calypso. We'll have to leave her somewhere after it's all over… Never mind. Wake up everyone I mentioned and have them meet me at the docks."

* * *

Quite the entourage approaching, Beckett thought, smirking at the six silhouetted figures approaching. His hands behind his back, eyes used to the overpowering sun hitting the white grains of the sandbar, young Miss Swann stood in the center, the smallest of them protected somewhat, if pirates could be considered protectors. It wouldn't matter. Not one among them would be worth sparing. Davy Jones, sloshing buckets of water strapped to his legs, and Mercer next to him had to be thinking the same thing.

"Miss Swann," he hissed when she came the closest to him. "Not in a tattered, waterlogged wedding gown this time, I see."

"It's Captain now, actually," she said with a detached coldness.

"My, my, moving up in the world. Hello, James." He geared his attentions to her right. "Not a bad start. You made a deal with me to deliver the pirates and here are quite a few notorious ones served directly to me on a not-so-silver platter." He shuffled the toe of his boot into the sand. "I can only imagine what such a dish would do to Mr. Mercer's appetite."

"Not that one," Jones said, pointing to Jack. "Your debt to me is still to be satisfied! One hundred years aboard the _Dutchman _as a start."

"That debt was paid, mate," Jack said.

"But not in full," Beckett interjected. "It turns out, Jack, combining the information you gave me with Norrington's was most beneficial. But that's undeniably all you had to offer and it seems now you must pay your piper."

"I have a proposal," Elizabeth said. "One of us." She saw from the corner of her eye Barbossa jolt. His monkey gave out a screech. "James Norrington."

"Done," Will said, meeting her adopted sneer with a smile.

"Not done!" James shouted.

"Where's your head, missy?" Barbossa lunged at her, bent down into her face. "Norrington is one of the pirate lords now. You've no right…"

"King!"

"Is that so?" His hand flew to his sword. Taking a step back, she saw Jack had his hand on his as well, only to see Barbossa swing it at James, slitting open the pocket of his coat. The pewter goblet thudded to the ground. Leaping off his shoulder, the monkey scampered over to it and guarded it with a fierce showing of teeth.

"You won't be on land forever," Davy Jones said to Jack as Mercer handed off James to him. "Whether I have you now or later is immaterial."

"That tastes like bleak obsession, mate, and we all know you already have one of those." Jack smirked at him and circled around the goings-on like a vulture. He stopped in front of Elizabeth. "Send me over," he whispered, ignoring her brief look of terror. "Trust me."

"You shan't have to wait then," she said, composing herself. "We know a liability when we see one. You can have Jack."

"What?" he balked, savoring Barbossa's rolling eyes. "I'm to be stationed with that petulant git?"

"It would be far from a romp for me as well, Sparrow," James sighed.

"Done!" Davy Jones agreed. Beckett stepped forward to her.

"You can advise your brethren court—you can fight and all of you will die, or you can choose not to fight in which case only most of you will die."

Will sauntered to them.

"My father will be free, one way or another, and it will be all you can do to watch everything you've planned fall out from under you." He stomped back towards the longboat they'd all arrived in, Gibbs hurrying along to catch up with him. Jack gave Elizabeth one last wink before the monkey climbed up onto his shoulder and tugged on his hair. Wincing at the sudden pain, he grimaced when it held up his Piece of Eight.

"Thank ye, Jack," Barbossa said.

"Tha…oh. Right. Not me." The monkey slid down his arm and ran up onto Barbossa. He bent down to retrieve the goblet, and then caught up with the others.

* * *

Entrusting the _Empress _to Heng, Elizabeth climbed up into the _Pearl_, creaking at her with what Elizabeth imagined to be jealousy.

"She'll have to be the flagship. She's the fastest," she said, bouncing her plan off onto Will.

"Calypso's still in the brig."

"Not anymore!" Will and Elizabeth jumped at Barbossa's booming voice, pulling a rope that led to Tia Dalma, bound so tightly she could have been a rope mummy, only her head and bare arms visible through the dried ropes. Pintel and Ragetti followed, taking the slack and winding it around the mast.

"What are you doing?" Elizabeth demanded.

"My apologies, your Majesty. Too long me fate has not been in me own hands." He snapped her Piece of Eight right off her neck and dropped it into the bowl with the others.

"You can't be serious! You can't free her now! We're about to go into battle!"

"Aye, I won't be the one freein' her. But seein' as you said MY ship is to be the flagship, I figure if the need should arise, this be a closer walk than to the brig. As for you." He swaggered up to the mast, Tia Dalma's expression unreadable. "Stand quietly and do what ye can to not let us all capsize and we'll see ye good and freed before the day is out."

About to make the final preparations for casting off, she looked over at the side of the ship. "Father?"

Swann threw himself over the side and crashed onto the dock, a pistol holstered in his belt. Heaving himself up, he brushed off a bit of dirt and met her wide, stricken eyes with his sheepish ones.

"Governor! We thought you would be stayin' away for sure," Pintel said, shaking his hand, Ragetti nodded his head in violent agreement.

"At last we're all a big happy family just like we should be," he sniffled. Elizabeth scrunched her mouth up into a ball wondering what it would do to Ragetti's mind once he learned he was more right than he knew.

"Well, Elizabeth." Swann opened his hands and shrugged. "I do have valuables in need of much looking after. If I'm to have any grandchildren…"

"Father," she sighed, laughing away her worries. "Pintel and Ragetti are our children." Shaking her head, stupefied, she ordered the colors to be hoisted, noticing the other ships in the harbor following suit.

* * *

**A/N: Oh jeez, this chapter makes me nervous. In case it's not clear, only their fathers, Gibbs, and James know that Jack and Elizabeth are now married, so they're kind of keeping it under wraps until things blow over. We'll see if that works or not. I couldn't redo AWE and omit the parlay scene. It's one of my favorites. "To unpathed waters and undreamed shores" is from _A Winter's Tale._**


	18. Sing Like Birds in the Cage

Was there no end in sight of this insurmountable hell? The bars that made up the _Flying Dutchman_'s brig chilled James' fingers, the soft, mossy texture on them rubbing onto him. His exhausted body longed to let his back fall against the bulkhead, but he didn't want to stick to anything. Sparrow seemed to feel the same way, standing in the center of their cell, a finger on his chin. He watched him scrutinize the bars, deep in thought. To think these same eyes that sacked ports and emptied legitimate merchant ships had beheld El…Miss Swa…Captain…what a topsy-turvy world, to say the least.

"Come, come, Jamie-lad, you're about to burn a hole in me if ye keep it up."

"Why are you even here?" Sparrow looked at him as if he'd failed to understand a joke.

"The key."

"Still chasing after that bloody key?" James held his head back. To hell with sticking to the bulkhead. A few of the hairs fell out of his tail, clinging to the seaweed texture just as he'd predicted. "I would have thought with your recent good fortune…" He couldn't bring himself to continue.

"I fancy Calypso has someone else in mind for the task, but chests don't very well open unless the appropriate key turns the lock, so someone must be here to find the key and transport it to the chest. That's called fruition."

Smug to the last. To be locked in his pirate ship's brig was one thing, but to be locked up with Jack Sparrow himself made his knees buckle with rage. It took a split second for his brain to channel the umbrage into a swift drawing back of the arm. He swung right into him, knocking him off his feet and onto the stony floor. Still on the ground, the only sound between the two was that of Sparrow cocking his pistol, the barrel pointed right between his eyes.

"Ye don't want to be doin' that, mate," he said, his voice in a conspiratorial whisper. James stood frozen while Jack picked himself back up, the pistol unwavering. His eyes took on a steely fire. "Ye see we all need the key, and to have the key we must find a way out, and to get out, I need to be in possession of all me faculties, savvy?"

"Don't…"

"I'd have but one qualm over shooting you now, Captain." He bit the last word. "Now don't put me in the mood to ignore it."

Sickeningly arrogant, James thought, watching Sparrow stow his weapon without waiting for an affirmation. The man rubbed his jaw with his free hand and resumed his examination of the bars, his forehead crinkling.

"Fine," he said. "If you think of something, tell me." A plan turned in his own mind, finding his way back to the _Black Pearl _and demanding of Barbossa where he had stashed the Pieces of Eight.

"Think like the whelp. Think like the whelp," he heard Sparrow repeat to himself. "Half barrel hinges! Leverage!"

"What?"

"Leverage! Pry open the door. With what? With that." Unsheathing his sword, he slid onto the floor and stretched it under the bars for a large piece of wood on the other side.

Ah. Leverage.

"Here." He loosened the belt strapped around his chest and squatted onto the floor, snaking the belt until it hit the wood, sliding it closer to them. "Now do it."

Jack stretched his arm as far as it would go and scraped the tip of his sword into the beam. Pulling, he lurched it through into the cell. They pried the door open and crept through the labyrinthine hull of the ship to the main cabin. Both had their pistols drawn and both knew what little that did on this ship.

"Looks as if two of your men are guarding it," Jack said, keeping his eyes on the chest. "Now perhaps if you can go in and do a little bit of admiral-worthy acting you can correct your previous…Commodore?" He brought his arm up to his face before he turned, remembering how the pounding headache waking up after an oar hit you in the face felt. He was alone. "Norrington?" he hissed down the corridor. Nothing. Well. That can't be good. "James?"

Look like the innocent flower but be the serpent underneath it, he thought, rolling his eyes at the absence. Strutting into the cabin, he flashed a smile at the familiar soldiers with their muskets and bayonets crossed over their bodies.

"Stop or we'll shoot!" the stockier one said.

"Good one. Admirable though it may be, why are you upstanding gentlemen here when you could be elsewhere?" He pointed up toward the deck, the sound of cannon fire thundering above them like a squall.

"Someone has to stay and guard the chest."

"There is no question, there has been a breakdown in military discipline aboard this vessel," one of them said to the other.

"I blame the fish people."

"Oh! So fish people, by dint of being fish people, automatically aren't as disciplined as non-fish people?"  
"Seems contributory, is all I'm suggesting."

Well, they certainly hadn't changed, Jack thought, finding their banter a bit endearing.

"It is true, if there were no fish people, there would be no need to guard the chest."

"And if there were no chest, we wouldn't need to be here to guard it." They both glanced behind them to find Jack, and the chest, gone.

* * *

James cut through the horde of Davy Jones' crew like he was in a thicket, swiping at everything in sight until he caught sight of some rope. Swinging over the smoke and shouting, he stumbled down onto the deck, his fingertips all that was keeping him from falling. Racing over to the mast, he gripped Tia Dalma's ropes, the woman behind them all keeping her eyes on him, like she had been expecting him.

"Do you want to be set free?"

"You da one to come to do it?"

"They won't last without you."

"Ha! What makes you tink I would protect dem?" He cut through her ropes like a wild man. Shredding them like a well-born lady's layers, he weaved through the fight, sword still drawn. It didn't matter who saw him. The swords and shouting of the enemy kept them occupied. Throwing her over his shoulder, he hurried down the steps. Resting on a chair off to the side was the bowl that held all nine Pieces of Eight. Convenient, Barbossa, he thought. Most convenient.

"If I remember my stories correctly, the brethren court wouldn't have even known what to do if someone hadn't told them. Who told them how to imprison you? Who was it?"

"Davy Jones." He eyes flashed a terrible red. She leaned her head into him, soaking in his proximity. "Ye best know to keep up wid me." A wide grin spread across her face.

"That won't be a problem."

* * *

"Batten down the hatches! Stick to your guns!" Gibbs ran back and forth between the men before positioning himself at the end with his own rifle.

Another wave of soldiers and crewmen descended upon them on the deck of the _Pearl_, swords and pistols ready for bloodshed.

"Barbossa!" Elizabeth yelled across the deck to him. "We need you back at the helm!"

"Aye, that be true!" She took a step back, surprised at the rapid speed with which the man swiped away at every obstacle in front of him just to make it to the steps and up to the helm. Bringing her sword up just in time to block a side attack from one of the soldiers, she spun around and greeted her assailant with a coquettish smile before taking the offensive.

* * *

Mary hovered above the action, flying from the _Black Pearl_'s sails to those of the _Flying Dutchman_, scanning the deck for any sign of James. Below, the door to the main cabin opened to reveal Jack tiptoeing out, the chest tucked under his arm. Just when she was sure she wouldn't like the man, she thought, clasping her hands together. Her eyes widened at the sight of Davy Jones himself coming up right behind him.

"Well, looky here, gents, a lost bird! A lost bird that never learned to fly."

Not if Mary Read has anything to say about it, she thought, pursing her lips together and swooping down to Jack, blending in with the sails.

"To my great regret," she heard him say as he stuck out on arm, draping it over her. "But never too late to learn, eh?"

She shot back up into the air with him in tow, flapping her wings so hard she felt they would snap right off of her. The laugh of one of the crewmen came straight for them. One of the crusty conch shell crewmen swung right into her, knocking Jack over onto the mast. Breathing a sigh of relief, Mary batted her wings at him and sent him crashing back down onto the deck. Behind her, the clashing of swords stung her ears. Davy Jones had already teleported himself up onto the mast, right in front of Jack.

"I know how to set ye free, mate," he said.

"My freedom was forfeit long ago." They parried against the thrashing sails, the wind howling across the horizon. Jack tried to keep the chest behind him.

"Throw the chest!" she shouted up at him. Jack flung it down to her, his eyes on Jones' sword.

"Fool!" Jones scoffed at him. "You can do nothing without the key!"

All in good time, Mary told herself, wondering if she let it plummet down onto the deck of the _Pearl _if it would smash open and expose the slippery heart. No. There was too much chance of it landing in the wrong hands. Oh where was James? Every chance at a familiar face was blocked with swords and smoke.

"Elizabeth!" she called. "Take the chest!"

Kicking away her latest adversary, Elizabeth opened her arms and caught the chest. Racing to the helm, she stopped to see Will battling two uniformed soldiers.

"Will!" Elizabeth dove in, sword ready, and pressed her back against his. They pushed off each other and into the attackers. They spun back around at exactly the same time, blocking each other's swords with a stiff laugh. "We have the chest! Hold onto it."

"Where's the key?" he asked. Shaking her head, she peered over the anarchy on the decks of both ships to see Jack and Davy Jones locked in their own sword fight up on the mast.

"Guard the chest," Elizabeth breathed, running over to the rigging and gripping a rope with white knuckles. Slicing at the rope, it sent her reeling onto the deck of the _Flying Dutchman_. One of the crewmen, an eel in sailor's clothing, snaked its head at her. She readied her sword.

* * *

Will clamored down the stairs below decks to hide the chest, his own heart pounding so loudly he could hear it. He remembered the small storage space on the other side of the staircase by the brig. Surely if Jack could bring back the key, they could come back down here without any trouble. He once again pushed out of his mind any doubt that James Norrington would want to stab the heart. He couldn't think about that right now.

Throwing a blanket off of a few crates, he set the chest in between them and covered it back up. His hand flew up to his forehead, allowing him to close his eyes and calm down, if only for a few seconds. They had half of the puzzle sitting right at his feet.

Without taking his eyes off it, Will walked backwards returning to the staircase, only to hear a final groan deeper within the storage. Holding his breath, he kept his hand on the handle of his sword, creeping closer to where he thought he had seen movement. The hold was filled to the brim with crates and boxes, all encased in a shadowy din. Bunching up some of a ratty blanket in his fists, he pulled the whole thing up in one motion.

"Turner?"

"Norrington?"

* * *

**A/N: Hee hee, the goal of this chapter was for the chest to change as many hands as possible. The innocent flower bit is from _Macbeth. _The chapter title comes from _King Lear, _my least favorite of Shakespeare's plays that I've read/seen. I am an absolute sucker for anything that refers to Jack as a bird or compares him to such. Plus the "lost bird who never learned to fly" has to go in my Top Ten Favorite POTC quotes because it's such a juicy villain line.**


	19. Into Something Rich and Strange

_Full fathom five thy father lies;  
Of his bones are coral made;  
Those are pearls that were his eyes:  
Nothing of him that doth fade  
But doth suffer a sea-change  
Into something rich and strange. _

_----- The Tempest_

Will stumbled back into the clutter. Beneath James, Tia Dalma lied on top of another blanket, her locks and limbs sprawled over everything. Her eyes closed and mouth agape, all Will's attention fell on her skin, supple in sweat. She was still clothed, her multi-colored skirt bunched up around her hips in a cotton cloud.

"Get out!" James hissed at him, scrambling to his feet while at the same time buttoning his trousers.

"You're mad!"

"Out! It's not finished."

"By the looks of things, I'd say it is," Will blurted, blushing at his own vulgarity. Tia Dalma remained in a motionless stupor. It would be like lifting a ragdoll, no effort at all to toss her overboard and let her drown, let her become what she was meant to be.

"Down here!" they heard someone roar behind them. Will ran right to the two soldiers, taking both of them out with his sword before they could even draw theirs up to their chests.

"Go! Go now!" Will ordered James, shaking his head at what he had just allowed. James scooped Tia Dalma up, her limp arms brushing against his knees, and hustled to the stairs. Will continued to provide cover for them, all the while cursing himself. There was no use in trying to predict what Calypso would have in store for all of them, he decided. He would find out in a matter of minutes. At last they made it to the _Pearl_'s railing. Drawing in one last inhale, James curled his biceps up and then let her spill into the dark water.

* * *

Elizabeth hurried down into the _Flying Dutchman_'s brig, maiming one of the crewmen with starfish plastered all over his almost-human body. Prying a key from his rough fingers, she panted her way down the short corridor.

"Bootstrap? Bootstrap Bill? William Turner?"

"You know my name," she heard. A face emerged from the bulkhead, glassy heavy-set eyes staring at her in wonder. It pulled itself out enough for her to see what was still a long black coat thrown over the form's back.

"Yes. Yes, I know your son," she said.

"William! He's all right!" Bootstrap laughed. Salt water dripped down the corners of his pale mouth.

"Listen to me, I'm here to get you out." She stuck the key into the lock. "There are a lot of people who want to help you." The door swung open with a loud creak but Bootstrap remained in his spot. "Please. Jack's trying to get the key to the dead man's chest right now and needs our help!"

"Jack?"

"Yes, Jack Sparrow."

"He survived," Bootstrap said to himself, turning his head just enough for Elizabeth to see the half of his face covered in a sea anemone. Gasping, she jumped back, her fingers clenching the cell door. "Who are you?"

"I'm his wife. Please come out. Will wants to see you. My name's Elizabeth." She rolled her eyes at her last statement. Precious little it would do.

"William? He's all right! He's come to save me. He promised me he would."

Her nostrils flaring, she stepped into the cell and pulled him from the bulkhead, the crunch of it nauseating her. She considered leaving him, but if she could just reach past the sea, past all the changes and into his mind, into his heart, it would be another swordsman to secure the key. Underneath her fingers, the sponge-like texture of his arm hardened.

"Bootstrap, when we go up on deck, you're going to have to fight. Do you understand?" She led him up the stairs with one hand, her sword in the other. Looking back, she saw him nod. "Good. Try to help us get the key." Unsure if letting him out would really help Jack at all, Elizabeth released him and sliced into the crewman nearest to her, her goal to make it just underneath the mast to wait for what she hoped would be a falling key.

* * *

In the back of Jack's mind, he kept wondering where the _Endeavor _was hiding in spite of the fact he knew all too well Beckett was just waiting in the wings, letting anyone do his dirty work for him. The thoughts couldn't linger for long, though, or else Davy Jones would impale him in an instant.

"Ye won't be settin' your hands on this any time soon," Jones taunted him, producing the key with one of his tentacles.

No, I won't be, Jack smirked, his sword severing the tentacle from his massive beard. He hardly had time to follow it down with his eyes to see where it went, the sky darkening and taking on a greenish hue. Perfect time for a squall, he thought.

Screaming, Davy Jones lunged his claw right into Jack's sword, snapping it in two. Wide-eyed, Jack reached for a rope and slid down onto the deck at the same time lightning cracked against the horizon, thunder booming right on its tail. The raindrops felt like pincers cutting through his skin, squeezed from the swirling black clouds above them. The ship lurched, sending Jack reeling back into the railing, the _Pearl _broad-siding them.

* * *

"More speed!" Barbossa yelled down to the crew. "Haul your wind and hold your water! Ha ha ha!" He kicked aside one of Davy Jones' crewmen, keeping both hands on the helm. Will and James hurried back into the fray, swords brandished with a primal fervor.

"Man the guns!" Gibbs shouted over it, his voice catching Will's chin and tilting it back up to see his father on the _Flying Dutchman_, close to Elizabeth. She bent down and for a moment, he thought she had been struck, but he exhaled at seeing her jump back up, the shine of something metallic in her hand. The key.

"Norrington! Norrington, you can take Jones' place if you wish!"

"What?" James disarmed the crewman fighting him.

"Stab the heart! Be captain of the _Dutchman_! Free the world of Jones," Will heaved, managing to unsheathe the sword of a soldier and wield both of them against the rest of the onslaught. "Swing over with me. Elizabeth's outnumbered!" James ran down into the hold and returned with the chest.

"If yer gonna go, then go!" Barbossa shouted down to them, steering the ship even closer to the _Dutchman_, the heavy winds interlocking the masts together. Through the pouring rain, the two swung onto the other ship.

"Elizabeth!" Will shouted. James remained next to him, the chest under one of his arms, his sword at the ready. "Throw us the key!"

The key about slid right through his soaked fingers, but he clapped his palms together, the key sandwiched between them. Kneeling down, he stuck it into the chest and turned the lock. The lid clicked open, revealing the heart thumping at a rapid intensity. James pointed his sword down, ready to stick the blade right into the organ, when from the side, Bootstrap took hold of him by the waist and tackled him to the deck.

"Father! Father, let go of him!" Will latched onto his back to disjoin the two, but Bootstrap sent him off with a jerk.

"Must help…get…the key," he recited.

* * *

Jack had no time to catch up to Davy Jones, inches away from the opened chest. Pulling out his pistol, he closed one eye and hit the lid, clamping it shut.

"That was a might stupid thing to do, Sparrow," he growled, turning back to him. Ah, Jack thought, quickly remembering the downside to distracting Jones. Letting out a scream, he picked up the broken, jagged end of his sword, still long enough to be used for a knife. Behind Jones, Jack could see Elizabeth gather the chest up in her arms, the key still in the lock. He let a grin form on his face. She was running it back to Will and James when one of the crewmen plunged himself from the rigging right on top of her. Her surprised and pained grunt accompanied with her thud to the deck knocked the air out of him for a brief second. Hurry back over to them, love, he thought, blocking that relentless claw coming at him. Hurry back to them and it will all be over. The claw knocked what was left of his sword out of his hand and to the other side of the deck.

Laughing, Davy Jones turned his attention back to the chest, several feet from Will.

* * *

"Father! Stop!" Will produced the knife his father gave him and pinned him to the deck with it. "It's going to be all right. This will all be over shortly. Norrington!" Before he could kick the chest over to him, Jones took his sword and lodged it into Will's thigh. Slapping him with enough force to knock him down, he pressed the tip of his sword against Will's chest.

"Mr. Turner, brave young fool," Jones sneered. "Did ye really think ye could best me twice?"

"And then some!"

Jones turned his neck ever so slightly, just enough to see Jack holding the heart in the palm of his hand, blood and rain washing down over it.

"You're a cruel man, Jack Sparrow," Jones spat at him.

"Cruel is a matter of perspective," Jack countered, sidestepping to James, coughing and staggering to his feet like a newborn fawn. Elizabeth hurried over to him and threw his arm around her, supporting him just enough to try and meet Jack halfway.

"Is it now?" Jones jerked around and rammed his sword straight into Will's chest, twisting the blade in even deeper.

Will couldn't scream, couldn't cry out any last scalding curse at his murderer. All he could feel was his body sinking back onto the railing, along with the hot, piercing sensation emanating from his chest. It seemed to course through his body, rendering his legs limp. It climbed into his ears and muffled every sound, like he was underwater.

"William. My son," he thought he heard, but with icy rain stinging his eyes, his vision dulling, he couldn't be sure of anything except it was too late. He'd made a promise he wouldn't live to keep. A panicked voice echoed around him, cold fingers tapping his cheeks, but it all hazed together into a black and green fog, every corner of his brain trying to remember how to breathe.

A flash of white ran over his eyes, followed by a touch so feathery and light it made him think of kissing Mary. Mary. Another one's freedom denied all because he lay here, wet and distant, fighting just to inhale.

"Will?"

"Will?"

"Will, look at me. Stay with me."

"You're all right. It's going to be all right."

Every sensation was dulled except for a rough hand on top of his own, wedging something cold into it. It felt so familiar. The hand tightened around his, forcing his fingers to curl around the object. Too late. Whatever he did, it would be too late…

* * *

**A/N: Do not own POTC. Please leave a review!**


	20. A Good Decision is Based on Knowledge

Through dusty tears, Mary watched Jack guide Will's hand to stab the heart immediately following Bootstrap's sudden burst of lucidity. She rubbed her face against Will's temple, her dark stardust tears wiping off onto him. Her body jolted at the struggling sounds between Bootstrap and Jones suddenly stop when the blade was all the way through. Everyone stared at Jones, his eyes rolling back into his deformed head.

"Nooooo," came a voice from the choppy waters, the rain even heavier now, rain mixed with tears.

"Calypso," Jones breathed before plummeting off the side and into the harsh sea. Their heads turned back to Will just as quickly as he let out a final wheeze.

"Will, Will, stay with us." Elizabeth smoothed a drenched piece of hair off his forehead. Mary could feel his head in her hands grow heavy.

"The _Dutchman _must have a captain," Bootstrap said, his black and white knife in hand. The rest of the crew followed him, two of them picking up the empty chest. Mary ran her hands over his arm, her wings spreading, willing to act before she was. She left a light, airy kiss just below his ear.

"I love you, Will," she whispered. Stepping back, her wings lifted her feet inches off the deck. Summoning up her remaining strength, she yelled to the others, "Take hold of me!"

Jack took Elizabeth by the arms and dragged her over to Mary, the two of them and James holding onto her. She looked one last time at Bootstrap tearing open Will's shirt, exposing the white, pure flesh to the biting rain. The weight of so many people made it a slow, strained flight, but the _Pearl _was near, scoured with more of the dead. She collapsed when they reached the familiar black deck. On her hands and knees, she crawled to the railing and scanned the _Flying Dutchman_, wondering, hoping, praying Will would surface. All lay still.

"Jack!" Gibbs ran to him. "The _Endeavor_'s turned tail. No word on the pirate lords. What are we waitin' on? Where be Will?"

"I don't know," he breathed, watching the ship in front of them. At last, Will stood, a long red gash running down his chest, his shirt ripped all the way down to his bottom ribs. He had the helm with one arm, ordering the crew to their posts, the barnacles and sea anemones and urchins melting off their bodies, revealing human skin, human faces. A grin broke out on Jack's face.

"Orders, Captain?"

"Hard to port! Back to Shipwreck Cove. Get that man off my helm," he said, climbing up the steps to Barbossa.

"Ye be invitin' them to return, turnin' your rudder on 'em like that!" Barbossa argued.

"They do not have the _Flying Dutchman _anymore. We do. All of Beckett's plans hinged on having the _Flying Dutchman_, which, I'd like to point out again, we now have. Hence." Shooing Barbossa from the helm, he felt two arms slide up onto his chest and a chin on his shoulder. He exhaled. Exactly what he needed to feel after that. He expected her to speak, but instead he could still feel her body tremble.

"It's still a victory, darling."

"How's Calypso going to feel about what we've done?" she whimpered, her forehead falling onto him. Dearest Lizzie. He wished he knew. Guiding her to his front, he switched places with her and wrapped his arms around her, placing her hand on one of the helm's spokes. Kissing her shoulder, he pondered what to say.

"Elizabeth! Thank heavens you're all right." Jack let go of her just long enough for her to enjoy her father's embrace before pulling her back to him. It would come, all right, a swift release of the pent-up shock at what all just happened. He could not yet even revel in the fact he was freed from his debt. It would come with great force, which would then probably be followed with a great amount of rum, but for now, he knew only Lizzie's touch could steady his nerves. "I thought for a moment it would be the last time I saw you, some of those sea ruffians cornered me and, and…" His eyes shifted over towards Pintel and Ragetti. "But I just followed their lead, and when we ran out of ammunition, we used them as clubs."

"Highly resourceful," Jack remarked, noting the _Flying Dutchman _gaining on them. It was the first time he could really look at the ship without fear and take in its magnificence. Still nowhere near his _Pearl_, of course, but a fine ship. "Hold your head up, love, if ye wish to see Captain Turner."

Before either of them knew it, Will was next to them on the _Pearl_'s deck.

"Oy! Ye can't be doing that all the time!"

"It takes too much energy to do it all the time," Will said. "Besides, it was worth scaring you."

"William, you could not scare me if you tried."

"I don't know, Jack," Elizabeth said. "It seemed we were all scared not too long ago." He recoiled before resuming his hold on her. It was just now that Jack spotted the chest tucked under Will's arm, a heartbeat sending out tiny vibrations.

"You two appear awfully cozy." It was said with less malice than Jack expected, which only worked in everyone's favor.

"It is customary, William, to comfort one's wife when her former fiancés go gallivanting about as immortal captains."

"Wife." The corner of Will's lip twitched upward before it fell back down into a moment of contemplation. Elizabeth nodded. "In that case, I should like to kiss the bride." He planted a chaste kiss on Elizabeth's forehead and peered around the ship.

"The _Endeavor _retreated, but that can only mean Beckett will be back," Elizabeth said. "Once we're back at the Cove, we'll have to regroup and form an offensive strategy."

* * *

"There you are," Will said, finding Mary resting on the bowsprit of his ship, her wings folded. His bowsprit. His ship. He used to think them such meager possessions, rolling his eyes at Jack and Barbossa's preoccupations with the _Black Pearl_. Captain Will Turner. He could grow used to the title. "You still have your wings."

"I haven't been released from anything," Mary said.

"I'm sorry."

"Not your 'sorries' I'm lookin' for," she snorted, glancing down at the water. "Ever since she come spring me from jail, all it's been is her cryin' and carryin' on about being trapped in a human form. Now that she's back to how she's meant to be, 'spect she won't have no one to vent her sorrows to. Should've known she'd forget me rather than free me." She let out a sigh. "But ye now, that's somethin' else again, says I. Captain William Turner. That's a fine thing, that is. And a fine noble position, if ye don't mind me saying."

"One day ashore, ten years at sea," he said. He took a step, leaning forward and balancing his arms on the bowsprit. "Did you mean it?"

"Mean what?" she coughed, her eyes shifting, her form taking on a deep purple tint. Will gave her a smile. "I…now how did ye even manage to hear such a thing? Ye seemed too far gone…"

Instead of answering, he straddled the bowsprit and scooted his way to her until they were right across from each other. Cupping her cheeks, he smiled when they faded back to their normal, if somewhat transparent selves. The immortal captain of the _Flying Dutchman_, assigned to ferry those who die at sea to the other side and a winged guardian angel. You're really in trouble now, he thought, but decided the sound of it was so lovely he couldn't care for very long. Leaning forward, he closed his eyes and kissed her.

"I love you too, Mary, wings or no wings, human or not human, pirate or no pirate."

* * *

Elizabeth preferred to stand near the door, knowing full well her father's ear was pressed against the other side of it. So much had happened she had blushed upon seeing the other pirate lords return, their faces and fingers smudged with gunpowder, their surgeons and attendants still hovering over some of them, applying a few last stitches. Hearing the report a few of the East India Trading Company's ships now existed as flotsam, even more taken over and now part of various pirate fleets, she sighed.

"There is no need to take the offensive and go following one ship across the seas," Chevalle scoffed. "The East India Trading Company has suffered enough, and when word gets out most of its ships were destroyed, it will suffer even more."

"You don't understand," James said. Like her, he stood apart from the others at the table, his arms folded, pacing the length of the room. "Beckett still must be stopped. If the king, England's king," he clarified, shooting her a glance, "finds out about this, he'll only resupply Beckett with more ships. We've only proven him right that pirates are more powerful than the monarchy had ever imagined."

"I don't much care for how you act after such…stimulating interludes," Jack said, leaving Elizabeth to purse her lips together trying not to blush. All her life, she'd never pictured James engaging in such activities outside of a firm, legal marriage, and yet, here they were. "Nevertheless, our lecherous colleague is right."

"Yer just sayin' that, seein' as how you be wantin' your revenge on him," Barbossa said, sitting for once, allowing slender, creamy Asian fingers apply one more stitch to his eyebrow. Wincing, he swatted her away and took a sip from his goblet.

"I am not sure you have much of a right to be here, Captain Barbossa," Mistress Ching said from across the table to him. "We did not vote to release Calypso and yet that is precisely what happened."

"I was not the one who did the deed," he said, glaring over at James.

"No, but you made it possible."

"Calypso will never let us make such a voyage anyway," Villanueva spoke up, commanding everyone's attention. "We have killed and subverted her lover's position."

"What was the sea like before she was bound?" Elizabeth asked.

"The sea has always been unforgiving, my King," he said. "But never more than when Calypso commanded it. The number of shipwrecks alone, well, how do you think most of these ships that make up this very Cove came here?"

"So is that what I'm hearing, that none of you believe such a venture is worth it?" Elizabeth's arms dropped to her sides. Unfathomable. "You're pirates! You take the offensive all the time raiding ships, and when the biggest threat to you has a moment of weakness, you don't do anything about it?"

"With Calypso freed, I fail to see why we need a King in the first place," Jocard said.

"Se Sumbhajee concurs," his attendant said after bending down to have the pirate lord whisper in his ear. "Se Sumbhajee says if you kill Beckett, he will follow you as his King."

"What?"

"What?" Jack repeated.

"An excellent idea," Chevalle said. "Captain Swann, if you wish to remain Pirate King, you will prove yourself worthy."

"She's already proven herself worthy!" James shouted, looming over Chevalle. "What do you call Davy Jones' destruction? A fluke? This is how you treat your King? It's a wonder how the first King survived long enough to bound Calypso!"

"She must prove her mettle," Mistress Ching said. Elizabeth's bottom lip fell an inch. Of all of them, she'd expected another woman to be more supportive.

"You're not making any sense at all," Jack said. "To send a King, especially a Pirate King, on such a perilous, nay, suicidal mission would be considered, in other kingdoms, an act of treason. Since we have forsworn our loyalties to our previous homelands and places of citizenship, we do not adhere to a King as the highest form of authority, but rather the law, or in our case, the Code. Where the law is subject to some other authority and has none of its own, the collapse of the state, in my view, is not far off; but if law is the master of the government and the government is its slave, then the situation is full of promise and men enjoy all the blessings that the gods shower on a state…or, so everyone can understand…" He looked over at Barbossa. "If the King makes the rules and we elected the King, the rules said King makes are the rules we abide by…savvy?"

"Then go with her," Jocard challenged.

Elizabeth brought her fist up to her mouth to keep from laughing. Only Jack, only her husband, could come to her defense only to wind up in the same predicament. Still, if it was just the two of them, she feared their odds.

"If I'm to do this," she said, clearing her throat. You're King. You're King, she told herself. "I should like a few more assistants. Captain Norrington, Captain Barbossa?" Her eyes flashed at Barbossa, daring him to tell her no. Her heart gave a sudden skip at the thought of punishing either of them if they refused her, but she would be left with no choice. Fortunately, they both nodded, Barbossa's the more tentative. "Good. Everyone else, out."

She waited until each one had left before drooping down into the chair at the head of the table, the curve of her wrists pressing against the arms. Killing Beckett before Calypso killed them…easy, she snorted.

"What are you going to do?" James asked, taking a seat.

"If I knew that, don't you think I would have told you?" She rolled her eyes, wishing to be able to snap at him that it didn't matter what she was going to because he so enjoyed taking matters…and goddesses, into his own hands, but now was not the time.

"I might be able to be of some assistance," she heard. Glancing up, she watched Teague come down one of the spiral staircases off to the side.

"Oy! Since when is circling all goings-on like a vulture one of your pastimes?" Jack blurted.

"Since ye can't seem to do anything without me lately," he quipped with a gravelly voice, low but authoritative, slow but sharp. She had to know what having such a man for a father was like, but there were more pressing matters now. If they ever had a quiet moment again, she would ask. She ignored Barbossa's incredulous frown that bobbled from her to Jack and then to her again. Teague hoisted the Code back up onto the table and flipped through the pages, taking the top right corner of each one and turning the page with it with more care than Elizabeth had ever seen anyone handle a book. Tome, she corrected herself, wondering if she could even lift the Code. "Here."

Everyone leaned into the table, their heads over the massive text. In the center of the page, surrounded by fine Latin script, was an illustration of a red vial, its container small and square.

"Ye keep Calypso mortal for but a period of time," Teague said, his heavy, sunken eyes burning right into her own. "Ye do that, and it'll buy ye your time to find Beckett."

"This makes an immortal mortal?"

"It's what bounded her in her bones the first time, but then it was lost, thought to be no more. The only other way to free Calypso was for one of the lords to set her free themselves, and that's been done. Find this, and the sea'll be more willing to accommodate ye."

* * *

**A/N: Didn't anticipate Jack would be referencing Plato's philosophies or that the chapter would contain anything that could be considered Political Science 101, but there it is. Plato is also where the chapter title comes from.**


	21. Tonight Let us Assay Our Plot

A library. Shipwreck Cove, infamous, legendary haven for pirates, had a library. Elizabeth shook her head, pouring over the volumes and volumes of texts, some handwritten with a monk-like calligraphy. She stood on one of the rolling ladders, combing through a shelf full of references she knew would say nothing about the location of the vial.

On the other side of the oval room, on his back, Jack sifted through a bottom shelf, pausing to take a swig from the bottle to his side.

"Even if we find something, there's no telling where Beckett will be," she said out loud, her eyes scouring the pages of one of the open books, scanning for the right words.

"He'll be in Port Royal."

"That sounded awfully sure."

"Wouldn't that be where'd you go back to, darling?" He positioned himself on his knees, moving up a shelf. "Most of his ships destroyed, the only place he knows to a moral certainty none of us are, gives him a safe place to regroup, I should think."

"Then that's where we'll start once we make way. Could…could I have some of that?" She jumped off the ladder and stood behind the bottle.

"Troubled, love?" he asked with a smirk. "I shouldn't like to see ye reduced to a 'complete scoundrel.'"

"Wouldn't you?" She took a sip.

"That was a very coy thing to say, Lizzie," he said, turning back to her, his eyes taking on a wanton quality she rather liked. It was all too easy to be taken in by that smile, she laughed to herself, standing over him. He stroked the small of her back as he rose to his feet. He slunk behind her and kissed the back of her neck before crossing over to the other side of the library.

"Oh! I found it!" she cried, her hands trembling underneath the pages.

Jack ran back to her and cocked his head to see the same illustration.

"'…whereby it disappeared after a ship of former slaves-turned-pirates, the reward for such three thousand guineas...' Fancy that," Jack breathed. His eyes widened, jaw tensed in thought. "Could it really be that simple? Yes, it could." In one motion, he placed the book back on the shelf and, with an arm around Elizabeth, led her out of the library. "It's here."

"Here?"

"Yes, yes. Jocard has it."

"How do you know that?"

"Oy! Do you doubt me?" he pouted. "Jocard and I go way back, love, and I'm rather surprised your extensive research on all things pirate-y did not tell you just what kind of plunder the man prefers to all others."

"He accumulates vials?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, not so much vials so much as…" He glanced down at the floor with a grimace.

"Don't tell me you're embarrassed to say it." Good Lord, she thought, if Jack was embarrassed then…

"Sauces."

"What?" He clamped his hand over her mouth to quiet her laughter.

"Sauces, spices—any and all manner of potions which, let's face it, are a hot commodity, easy to transport, and inconspicuous to sell. He pilfers them and then sells them for double the price. Who is to say a small, tiny insignificant looking bottle looks more like a mystical liquid eradicating immortality than an innocent spot of Tkmali, eh?"

"I have two questions." She summoned a serious, stern expression. "One, how do we know he has it here with him and two, how would we go about finding it?"

"Lizzie, love," he said. "One of a plethora of reasons I looked forward to marrying you was so that the melding of our wits could impart upon us a certain degree of unstoppability, rather than having us constantly pit them against each other." He gave her a wily grin.

* * *

"Captain Jocard?" she asked, mustering as innocent a tone as possible. It gave her a certain satisfaction to see the man clad in python skins jump.

"You startled me, King." He held his staff with both hands, his large earrings and scars briefly capturing her attention. "What do you wish of Gentleman Jocard?"

"I just wanted to thank you for suggesting to Captain Sparrow he accompany me on my quest."

"Ah," he said with suspicious eyes. "Jack can be quite useful, but be warned—it is humiliating to owe one's life to such a jester. And it seems he is rather taken with you."

She bit the insides of her cheeks.

"Yes, well, I've heard rumors you are a most talented cook."

"Cook? Gentleman Jocard takes offense." He straightened his torso, bare save for the animal skins draped over his back. "Gentleman Jocard is a chef."

"That is a rare talent," Elizabeth said. "I don't suppose I could trouble you to make something before you set sail? You see, I grew up in a governor's household." Seeing his eyes twitch in surprise was rather flattering. "It's been so long since I've been able to really sit down and savor my food, give it the consideration owed to the chef. Yes. Those were such times…"

"The King wishes me to make her something?"

"Oh would you?" She threw her arms around him, the long braided strands of his beard hitting her forehead. "I can just taste it now. Thank you, sir!"

His large, bracelet-clad hands clenched her arms to pry her off of him. He took a step back, regarding her with a completely befuddled face, but she maintained her grateful, childlike grin at him.

"What would you like?"

"May I come aboard your ship and see what ingredients you have on hand?" She clasped her hands together. "Please? I have such varied tastes, you see."

There was such a long pause, Elizabeth feared Jocard would change his mind. Unsure whether he meant to humor a madwoman or provide a personal service to his King, he extended his hand and led her out to the docks.

His ship drifted back and forth against the current, rocking against all the other ones, its sails catching the light breeze and sending it down onto the deck. The descent into the hull encased her in such darkness she stumbled onto one of the steps, but caught herself. The smells of downy feathers and lemons tickled her nose, followed by an overpowering mixture of nutmeg and curry powder. Past a modest rum cellar, he stopped in front of a much smaller rack with more little cubby holes.

"What does the King fancy?"

Kneeling down in front of the rack, she sorted through the vials, rotating them with her fingers to keep them from sliding out and smashing onto the floor.

"Pork," she blabbed, rolling her eyes at herself. "Pork with…" Bloody hell, where was it? Was it even here? Would it be less than subtle to ask for a red sauce to accompany it? About to ask him for his recommendation and see if it led anywhere, she heard footsteps. Right on cue, she thought, but no less frustrated.

"Jack Sparrow," Jocard murmured. "To what does Gentleman Jocard owe this…pleasure?"

"Debt," Jack said, holding out a brown leather sack. He placed it in Jocard's hand and mimicked his confusion. "Don't tell me ye forgot I owed ye money."

"It is not the fact you owe, Jack, rather that you paid."

"I've gotten into a habit of paying me debts," he said, his hands bent around his belt. "Entertaining our King, I see?"

"Yes." Jocard turned back to her. "Did you choose yet?"

"I also meant to speak to ye about the quality of your cargo." Jack put his arm around him and whirled him back around, his back to Elizabeth. Sighing, she skimmed another row of vials. Cassia. Cloves. Saffron. Ginger…

"What do you speak of my cargo?"

"I mean, mate, some of your pigs look a tad rancid and they're not even dead yet. You should have seen the one giving me the evil eye when I came down here. Devil-pig, to be sure! Apt to give me nightmares."

At last, Elizabeth's fingers dusted the label on a red-filled vial marked "unknown." She blinked, musing that her eyelashes would bat more dust off of it to reveal it to be nothing more than watered-down paprika or a Mexican, spicy sauce of some kind, but noted next to the large letters that made up "unknown," she saw someone had written, "test on enemies first."

Pocketing it, she pulled out another, larger bottle and trotted back into the hold with it.

"Captain Jocard. This is the one I want." She held it out to him.

"This is what you want?" He frowned at the vial. "Might I suggest something a little sweeter, King?"

"Oh, yes, by all means." She brushed her hair out of her face, her heart racing to the point she squeaked out the words. She followed him back to the rack where he pulled a few vials out and held them between his fingers. Returning whatever she'd pulled out herself, she stood back up and smiled at him. "I just know it will be absolutely delicious." Jack caught her eye, looking ready to laugh at a moment's notice. Still feeling the effects of her mild adrenaline rush, she raised an eyebrow at him and turned back to Jocard. "Thank you. If you don't mind, I should like to stay and admire your collection. I can let myself out."

"King's prerogative," he sighed, sharing a masculine sort of look with Jack before climbing back up the steps. "The crew will be down momentarily to prepare for our journey."

"Naturally!" she called up to him.

"Well?" Jack edged over to her.

"Well what?" she sang with her hands behind her back, taking a precious long time to lift the vial from her pocket. Jack grinned at her.

"Just what is it you picked for us to eat?" he asked, backing her into the bulkhead.

"I'm not even sure," she said, her eyes locking in on his lips.

"And when do we set sail?"

"In the morning. We'll make sure the _Pearl _is ready tonight."

"We're taking the _Pearl_, are we?" he asked, pausing their flirtation. "Or do you mean I shall be on my ship and you shall be on yours? If that be the case, that's going to do a number on my morale."

"Heng is going to captain the _Empress_, Jack," she said, turning her hand to graze up his thigh, the hot bulge at its side pulsating against her touch. He leaned in more to her and took her wrist, guiding her hand over it even more. "There's only one ship I love…and I suppose her Captain is all right as well." His fingertips caressed her jaw bone as he kissed her, hard. She shivered at the sensation of his hands sliding down her front to unlace her belt.

Her bare thighs never shivered once, the heat of the moment so scalding she wondered how she would even manage to stand. Jack must have read her mind, though, lifting her legs off the ground and positioning himself in between them, her back pressed into the bulkhead of the ship, her arms around his back.

"Just all right?" he tested her between kisses.

"We'll see," she teased, gasping at the sudden impact between her legs. "Oh, Jack," she breathed. "How could you ever think you're just all right?"

* * *

"You're not going and that's final!"

"Elizabeth, you are being most difficult. There is no reason in the world not to go…"

"It's dangerous! It was just, just…happenstance that nothing happened to you during the battle!"

Jack could hear the argument over his father's guitar, over all the other private-but-loud conversations echoing throughout the great hall. Governor Swann, well, Jack paused in his thoughts. Was he still a governor at all? Mr. Swann seemed…crude somehow. Governor Swann had refused to leave Elizabeth's side all evening, badgering her to no end about going with them to Port Royal once she informed him of the plan.

"I have many contacts in Port Royal, most of which have expressed a great deal of animosity towards Beckett. I can be of use!"

"That's not what concerns me, Father!" That was Lizzie's way of saying, "you could be killed," he told himself, taking a step towards them, planning out the best way to interfere and convince the Governor he would be far better off here.

"And what concerns me is that you think you can just make berth in Port Royal as if nothing happened, taking your pirate husband along with you!" And that was Governor Swann's way of saying, "at least let me compensate for your overly rash decision that I was overly stupid to condone," he thought.

"You were barely above being Beckett's prisoner yourself!" Elizabeth screamed at him. More heads were turning in their general direction. "You think Jack and I will be caught and hanged as soon as we step on the pier but you'll be able to just waltz right in!"

"There has to be a better way. That's all I'm saying," Governor Swann sighed, the volume of their heated discussion diminishing. The drinking and card playing resumed and Jack swaggered back over to them.

"Aye, there must be a better way," he said. "The only word that can describe the idea of us entering Port Royal undetected would be 'naïve.'"

"Jack," Elizabeth said.

"For it may be due to my long…very long absence from polite society, but am I wrong to assume that portraits are still done of the rich and powerful?" He propped himself up on the table and looked at both of them. "I must ask, Lizzie, because I'm curious, but when was the last time you've been to good, wholesome Port Royal?"

"Last year."

"Same with you then, I take it, sir?" He waited for Governor Swann to nod. "Ah. Now, it is quite certain, nay inevitable, that both of you would be recognized. Therefore, I propose this compromise that all the Swann family may go on the journey, but none shall set foot off the ship."

"Excuse me?" Elizabeth snapped.

"Captain Sparrow," Swann began.

"Jack, if ye please, sir."

"Jack, what are you getting at? You're not suggesting you be the one to set foot on Port Royal."

"That's exactly what I'm suggesting, mate!" He patted his back. "Or do ye not think I can pass for a proper English gentleman?" His eyes danced at melting Elizabeth's stern face into an amused one. "Now, I won't wear a wig. That's number two on me list of things Captain Jack Sparrow refuses to do, second only to revisiting the Locker, but there is some genteel finery around here that could be taken with us, don't take long to un-dread me hair…"

"Cover up your brand," she suggested.

"I think you of all people would know, love, how restrictive proper attire can be. There's always a ball or some fancy to-do in which I might run into Beckett, am I right?"

"They'll expect you to have a lady," Swann argued, although Jack noticed the defiance in his tone was just about gone.

"Have a lady?" Jack eyed Elizabeth with a smirk.

"He means…"

"Nay, say no more. Now, since you will not be taking such a foolish risk," he said to her, "I believe I know another young lady around here what could benefit from our venture."

* * *

The _Flying Dutchman _rose from the waters and glided her way into Shipwreck Cove's harbor, the crew whistling and laughing so much Jack decided it looked almost like any other crew. Almost.

"William!" He waved his arms. "William!"

"This had better be good, Jack," Will said, lowering the planks for him to enter. "I do have a job to do, you know. How's Elizabeth?"

"Beautiful and yet burdened as always," he said, skimming the deck. His hands rubbed along the railing. It felt just like any other ship, the rough, patchy texture of coral nowhere to be felt. Pondering that distracted him from pondering Will's specific situation. Already he seemed wiser, otherworldly and yet, at the same time, every bit the gawky, eager boy who challenged him in a blacksmith shop. "I need to borrow Mary."

"Borrow me, ye say?" She appeared between them, causing Jack to jump. "Listen here, Jack, I may have been a lot of things, but whorin' me-self out to ye, a married man, well, that don't beat all."

"It's nothing of the kind."

* * *

"No, no." Elizabeth shook her head and gave her father a bemused look. Pintel and Ragetti held their arms up in the air.

"What was wrong with that?"

"Listen, if you're going to make sure Jack doesn't get hurt, you're going to have to pass as proper gentlemen," she said, once more taking Ragetti's hands. "Captain Teague, please start again."

Teague resumed playing the Volta from his throne-like chair, watching his daughter-in-law whirl Ragetti around the room, leading. What an odd woman Jackie had picked, he thought, smiling at her. Lady and pirate both.

"Now put your foot there, Mr. Ragetti," Governor Swann said, pointing to the floor. "That's it. Very good. No, try not to look at the floor. Look at your partner. That's it! Very nice. Like true ballroom dancers."

"This ain't so hard," Ragetti said with a shy grin, stumbling to avoid stepping on Elizabeth's foot.

"Distract yourself with some small-talk," she suggested gently. "Talk to me about the weather."

"Ye think it's going to rain?" he asked.

Teague snorted as Elizabeth snapped her eyes shut and let out a hearty laugh, not stopping until tears streamed down her face. Swallowing, she nodded that she was ready to continue dancing and took his hands again. Daft girl, he thought. Daft like her husband.

* * *

"Out of the question," Will said. "A few hours of being mortal in such a dangerous situation? Mary, do you want to risk it this way?"

"It sounds a bit like one day ashore, ten years at sea by my way of thinking," she said, eyeing the vial. "No pistols or anything?"

"I'd have the pistol," Jack said. "You would just have to hang on me arm, dance a dance with me or two, and naught but a second drink would render ye back to the angel ye are now and we'd put ye back on the _Dutchman _as Mrs. Captain Turner. What say you to that?"

Will clung to her, his forehead against her transparent cheek. It might have been his imagination, but Jack wondered if Will saw her better than the rest of them. He certainly didn't seem to have any problems holding her and touching her like she had a normal body.

"It's up to you," Will whispered to her. "Beckett does need to be stopped."

"Just one drop?" she asked, picking up the vial, her wings folding.

"Just one drop," Jack said.

* * *

**A/N: Yes, I am fully aware that "unstoppability" is not a word. I chose Jocard as the pirate lord who had the vial all along because, after playing around on the POTC wiki page, he was the pirate lord whose jurisdiction was the closest to Jack's, so they would probably know each other well, and also because it says at one time he was the _Black Pearl_'s chef. Naturally, I had to have him cook! Who says pirates can't be multi-talented? Tkemali is the Georgian name for cherry plum, as well as a sauce made of cherry plums. Tkemali is made from both red and green varieties and is used mostly on meat and potatoes, kind of like Ketchup..or catsup if you prefer (I don't). The chapter title comes from _All's Well That Ends Well._**


	22. Some Rise by Sin and Some by Virtue Fall

"I don't like this. I don't like this at all," Ragetti said to the horse, mimicking its heavy snorts. He glanced over his shoulder, the fact he had not docked in Port Royal since the siege for the last medallion.

"Quiet!" Gibbs scolded. "Now the way I sees it, playin' the part of proper servants means not speaking unless spoken to." He adjusted his brocaded coat and tri-corner hat that sent droplets of sweat down the sides of his head, coursing down behind his ears. "Hadn't worn a hat since me days workin' for ol' Norrington up there."

Gibbs, Pintel, and Ragetti gazed up from the pier to see Norrington, Barbossa, and Governor Swann watching them from the _Black Pearl_'s railing.

"And workin' for him still," Gibbs muttered.

"At least we got the easy end of the deal." Pintel shrugged. "Drive 'em up in a genteel stolen carriage with stolen horses and wait outside for 'em."

* * *

"Ye ladies better not be playin' dress up in there for much longer!" Barbossa bellowed at Elizabeth and Mary from the other side of the cabin door. "Haven't got time to be wastin' now!"

"Hush up, ye old goat!" Mary yelled back. "Ye realize it's been a good seventeen years since I've had human hair? Don't even remember the last time I had the opportunity to have it all done up and pretty-like."

Elizabeth opened the door for her and the men blinked a few times, still adjusting to what the mortal Mary Read looked like—a petite, slight figure pale as a cloud all wrapped up in dark green silk. Dusting off her skirts, she looked around and then returned to brushing her gown to busy her gloved hands, concealing her pirate brand. Her dark hair was piled up on her head, leaving two long sausage locks curled down the back of her neck.

"Jack?" Elizabeth called at the start of the stairs below decks. "Jack? It's time."

"Tell Barbossa to go into the cabin."

"No!" She bit her lip, knowing she shouldn't be so tempted to laugh before even seeing him.

"Lizzie, do be reasonable. There is a reputation at stake."

"Just come on up and get it over with."

Jack emerged, still looking like himself, Elizabeth noted, breathing a sigh of relief. His hair was only an inch or two shorter and tied back around in a tail. He must not have been able to part with his beard, a bandage strategically positioned at his chin, but the heavy black coat concealed his arms well, and that was all that mattered. Still, no kohl, no rings, no…

"You kept your lace around your hand," she said.

"Yes, I did, and please try to constrain your laughter just a little harder," he snorted, cocking his head at Barbossa's laughter.

"Well, best be gettin' to the ball now, Cinderella. I don't know where the gents stole that carriage from, so it wouldn't come as a surprise at me if it turned back into a pumpkin at midnight. 'Tho you do have a fine escort on your arm, to be sure." He shot a wicked grin at Mary. Jack returned it with a sneer and held out his arm for Mary. He turned one more time and reminded Elizabeth to mind the ship and then descended down into the carriage.

* * *

"What name did ye choose for this ridiculous little soiree?" Jack asked Mary when the carriage pulled up to the house. Governor Swann apparently did have a few contacts left, informing them of the party at Admiral Downs' home. He chuckled at the memory of Elizabeth's clear disgust retelling all her interactions with the family, primarily Cornelia Downs, the daughter. Yes, he would certainly need to tweak this venture if he would ever feel like spreading the story of how he stalked Lord Cutler Beckett and subsequently assassinated him.

"Here now, you'll see," she said, allowing Gibbs to help her out of the carriage. Jack stepped out and took her arm again.

"We'll pull out of the livery stable in one hour," Gibbs said, repeating his instructions. Nodding at them one more time, he latched onto the back of the carriage and signaled for Pintel to drive off, Ragetti waving goodbye to them.

"They're just happy they don't have to dance," Jack said to himself, leading his "lady" up to the front door. How many years had it been since he had entered such a house…as a guest?

"Names?" the butler asked.

"Mr. and Mrs. John Turner," Mary said, grasping Jack's arm tighter.

"Oy, ye didn't even make me a captain?"

"Best be avoiding any connections to the sea right now, Jack."

"Oh, well, excuse me, Mrs. Turner."

"You are excused, Mr. Turner. What do we do now?"

"We mingle."

There were a few couples dancing to the waltz four musicians played off to the side, but most were still standing, long-stemmed goblets in some of their delicate hands, an orgy of ribbons and powder. Oh yes, Jack thought. He would most definitely be changing the details of this story. For one, there would be rum and not tea. Waving away the server, he squinted his eyes over the crowd to scan for Beckett, not even sure he would be here.

"I don't believe we've met," he heard. He spun around to come face to face with a red haired girl about eighteen or nineteen years old, her hands behind her back. "I'm Cornelia Downs, the Admiral's daughter. I'm delighted to make your acquaintance, Mister…"

"Turner," Jack coughed. The name tasted like uncooked meat. He took her hand and gave her the obligatory kiss-and-bow. "This is my, er, wife, Mrs. Turner."

"What brings you to Port Royal, Mr. Turner?" Cornelia asked, stepping towards him, ignoring the fact he came with a woman.

"Enterprise."

"Would you care to have a dance, Mr. Turner?" the girl asked, the lustful gleam in her eyes taking on a frightening level.

"My, my, little Cornelia Downs," Mary said in a practiced upper-class accent. "You probably don't even remember meeting me. You were only about that high." She gestured. "It does make one feel old, recalling you on your patio out there with all your sweet little dolls. It won't be long before one of the local boys will be courting you. Come, dear, shall we pay our respects to our host?"

Jack grinned at the girl's crushed face and could have sworn he saw her kick the tiles of the floor.

"I had no idea you were such a possessive wife," he whispered to Mary.

"That respectable lady has harlot written all over her face. She'd do better with Tortuga strumpets than this crowd."

"At least you've managed to sound like said respectable ladies to everyone else," he laughed. "You must tell me your secret."

"I've been saying to me-self, 'talk like Elizabeth.'"

Jack laughed and took her to walk the perimeter of the large room.

* * *

"Tempest coming," Barbossa said, the _Pearl _now anchored off near one of Port Royals' peninsulas, distanced enough from the other ships, her black sails blending seamlessly into the night.

Elizabeth paced the deck, her hands shoved into the pockets of her trousers. There were only a few times in her life when an hour felt like a lifetime, and none of them involved anything good. Flaking off a few raindrops, she disappeared into the cabin to listen to the pattering drops ping against the deck and the sails. Her eyes subconsciously drifted over to where the vial lay hidden and, God willing, not to be used. Her fist rested against her bottom lip and she gnawed a bit on her knuckle. Stopping in the middle of the cabin, she laughed at herself. Pacing. You came in here to stop pacing, you silly girl.

"Elizabeth?"

"James?" She threw open the door.

"It's almost hit the hour-mark."

* * *

"He's not here," Jack sighed, sitting at one of the tables for two, Mary across from him. "Gives new meaning to the phrase, 'dressed up with no place to go,' does it not?"

"Pirates!" someone from the other side of the room cried. Jack and Mary straightened their backs, both sizing up their surroundings. He would have to smash the window next to them and make a run for the peninsula, he thought, visualizing the two of them doing it. He held the lapel of his coat, his pistol inches away from his fingers.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please stay calm," Admiral Downs said, his hands out and over his head. "A strange ship has been sighted nearby, nothing to be alarmed about. We don't even know that they are pirates. Now, just to be on the safe side, I must insist everyone stay here so as not to go roaming the streets on their own."

Armed servants stood in front of the doors.

"A fine lot that is," Mary groaned. "I'm a might used to being locked out of these sort of places rather than locked in, how about you? I tell ye, Jack, fate's a nice twisting knife if we're the only two of our party what wear the brand and manage to be the only ones eligible to come to this shindig only to be caught and hanged."

"Best not be takin' your gloves off then," Jack said. "Oh, bugger."

"What is it now?"

"That little Downs chit is coming our way."

* * *

"They've been gone too long," Elizabeth said, coming down the steps. "I've waited long enough. I'm going to go get them."

"You'll be seen!" Governor Swann argued.

"That's exactly what needs to happen," she said. "At this rate, the only thing that can get them out of there would be a pirate crew." She opened the lid of a metal box near the railing and passed out pistols to everyone.

"So we're to just barge in and take two hostages?" James scoffed. "Brilliant. That can't possibly end badly for everyone involved."

"Elizabeth, I highly doubt that would be the smartest choice, whether Beckett is there or not," her father tried again to reason with her as he held the pistol she gave him. "We don't want anyone giving him our whereabouts."

"But we don't want half our motley crew captured, do we?" Barbossa edged to her and took the next pistol she extended. "Ye and the former Admiral can go retrieve them. I'll mind the ship."

"You'll mind the ship, or you'll commandeer the ship?" Elizabeth asked, rolling her eyes. "You're coming with me. James, you and Father can manage the ship?"

"Be careful." Her father kissed her.

"You too."

"If ye don't trust me, wasn't too smart of ye to bring me along, was it?" Barbossa muttered to himself.

* * *

"…what all is involved in enterprise, Mr. Turner?" Cornelia Downs asked Jack, leaning on their table with her elbows propped up on it, heaving her cleavage at him.

"I define enterprise as taking advantage of opportune moments and making a bit of profit out of them."

"That's so interesting," she sighed, her voice growing so breathy Jack thought it a wonder the girl hadn't swooned yet.

"Yes, it is," Mary said, setting her jaw. "I'm sure your other guests could use some comforting in these terrifying circumstances."

"You have such nice hands, Mr. Turner."

"Young miss, do ye really wish this married man to go and shoot himself at this very second?" He flashed a hardened glare at her. "Because there is no woman upon this earth whose company I would loathe more than a swift shot in the head…except you. Savvy?"

Instead of ire, her eyes glimmered with that enthralled look he knew only too well from robbing young women over the years. Their terror also harbored a dangerous fascination, tricking them into believing they would almost like to be…carried off by such a dangerous blackguard who had no qualms about having his way with anyone. Exhaling, Jack shifted his chair to stare out the window to avoid looking at her. Maybe that's why ye married Lizzie, he mused. At least she didn't melt when you slung that chain around her neck.

"Pirates!" someone shouted again.

"A dull party this is if we're resorting to that again," he muttered, still pondering how to escape.

"Masked pirates!" someone else shrieked.

Jack's head perked up to see two figures in hoods and domino masks waving pistols in the air.

"Look afraid," he whispered to Mary.

She peered around to see the other women quivering behind their husbands so she rose with more grace than Jack imagined she had and wedged herself between him and the window, squatting down and tapping her knees in impatience.

"We'll leave when we have what we came for," Elizabeth said, her voice muffled underneath her hood. Oh yes, changing the facts of this story was climbing its way to the top of his priorities. He didn't mind the idea of Lizzie coming to his rescue once in a while, but…bugger. She was coming right for him. Don't look like a proud husband. Don't look like a proud husband.

"Oh no, dreaded pirate! Take whatever valuables you wish, but do us no harm!" he screamed, knowing how fake it sounded. Still, those closest to him were cowering. Cowering at his Lizzie. He considered reenacting the moment with her later.

"We're taking hostages!" one of her accomplices said and Jack widened his eyes in recognizing it to be Barbossa's voice. "You two. Stand up."

"Better do as he says, Mrs. Turner. We don't want any trouble." Jack reached around and helped Mary to her feet and whispered to her again to look afraid. She clamped onto his back, shivering like a wounded animal. Glancing back at her, her face looked absolutely bored stiff. "Come on now, Mary. Say something."

"Please don't hurt me."

"Shut it!" Barbossa pulled her away from Jack and burrowed his pistol into her neck. "These two are comin' with us and if any of ye so much as get up from your seats, well, I think maybe you'll have to cover your ears."

The shocked murmurs of the guests sounded more and more terrifying the closer the band moved to the door.

"Ah, I see you fiends pulled our carriage right up front for us," Jack said. "What hospitality!"

"Pintel! Get us to the ship as fast as you can!" Elizabeth shouted out to him.

"Right!" He gave the horse a good whip and they took off into the deserted streets. A cramped carriage to say the least, he thought, jerking out of Barbossa's grip and undoing his tail. It would take forever to have his hair back to the way it was, he sighed.

"Don't suppose ye brought me bandana with ye, love."

"Sorry. I was in a little bit of a hurry after you didn't come back," she said with a bite.

"We had it taken care of, didn't we, Mary?"

"Before or after they weren't letting anybody leave?" she grunted.

* * *

"Right then," Pintel said, hopping off of the driver's seat and patting the horse's snout. "Was quite a ride, that. Wish I had a carrot or somethin' for ye."

"I got some hardtack in my pocket," Ragetti offered.

"Nah. He's a horse what deserve a juicy apple or a carrot or somethin' like that. All right, horsey. Off ye go." Pintel folded his arms and hugged himself watching the horse trot back into town, pulling an empty carriage. "Ye think maybe he knows how to find his way home?" He smiled after seeing Ragetti's nod. "What ye suppose we would have named him had we kept him?"

After much thought, Ragetti answered, "Gottfried Leibniz."

"Always knew ye scared me," Jack said, side-stepping his way between them. The _Black Pearl _gave out a long creak, her floorboards squeaking with delight knowing her captain was back on board her.

"Father? James?" Elizabeth opened the door to the main cabin and poked her head inside. "Father?"

Jack squeezed in past her, snatched his bandana off of the bed, and hid his forehead with it, tossing back his hair in preparation to fix it back to the way it was.

"Where are they?"

"I'd check the hull and make sure they're both sober," he said. Tying off the knot of his bandana and sliding it back around, he heard the cock of a pistol that wasn't his. Turning back around, he saw Barbossa standing at the threshold of the cabin, his pistol pointed straight at Elizabeth. By instinct, he reached for his own.

"Ye don't want to be doin' that, Jack."

Before he could respond, a shot from somewhere else on the ship rang out. All three turned towards the doorway to find James and Governor Swann running up onto the main deck, the latter's pistol fresh with smoke. They both skidded to a stop at the sight of Barbossa, armed and pointing his pistol at one of their own.

"Outside, the both of ye," he growled to Jack and Elizabeth.

Armed soldiers restrained Gibbs, Mary, Pintel, and Ragetti off to the side.

"If this is about taking the ship…" Jack tried.

"The ship? The ship's going to be mine anyway," Barbossa said. "But see, the price on your head was just too good to let pass by."

"Price?"

"Price, Jack." Beckett walked up the planks onto the deck, pausing to raise his eyebrows in amusement at the restrained crew. The buckles of his shoes reflected the moonlight above them, the rest of him just a shadow. "Captain Barbossa, you may throw your prisoners into the brig and do as you like with them. I'll be taking Miss Swann ashore."

It was all Governor Swann needed to push aside one of the guards and aim his pistol at Beckett. He opened fire, the shot grazing his arm. Letting out a cry, Jack moved to take Elizabeth and both of them jump overboard, but the butt of a rifle knocked him back.

Clenching his arm, Beckett whirled back around at Governor Swann and fired his pistol.

Elizabeth screamed, her hands flying to her mouth, her father falling back and hitting the deck with a nauseating thud. Her thighs and stomach cramped, trying to remember how to break into a run. The barrel of Barbossa's pistol poked her temple. Get up. Her father wasn't shaking his head from the impact or staggering to his feet or even gasping for air.

"Get up," she whispered.

"Shooting one of my men and then attempting to kill me," Beckett said, turning his attention towards her. "Now will you come quietly, Miss Swann, or do I have to shoot the whole crew?"

"Ye want to be pointin' that at me, mate, and not at her," Jack said, his eyes hard. No. No, it was too much. She would faint away if Jack implied taking a bullet one more time. If her legs weren't giving out spasms, she would feel herself to be petrified.

"No, Jack, for once it's not about you. You have your fate, at the hands of the man who already betrayed you once and left you to die. Cheerio."

* * *

Jack's eyes fluttered open. It wasn't a nightmare. Too real to be a nightmare. Mary hovered over him, a compress against the side of his head. Her wings were folded in and…wings? Had he dreamed there had been a brief period of time when he couldn't see right through her?

"They hit ye on the head pretty good," she said, her pearly face towards the floor. "Oh, I sort of rummaged around for that vial, ye see. Didn't think I could do anyone much good dead. Will's on his way."

"Will…dead…" His lips went dry. "Lizzie?"

"No, no, she's alive. Beckett took her off the ship. Took both him and Mercer to carry her off. Thought you'd be proud to hear that." She wrung her ghostly hands. "But there won't be any goin' after her until we take the ship back."

Jack sat up and held his head against his forearm, the compress sandwiched between them. He did a quick pan of his surroundings to find he was in his own brig. Gibbs, Pintel, and Ragetti sat, knees up, in the cell across from his.

"Norrington?"

"Up on deck, helping Barbossa man the ship. Jack, it ain't like that. If he refuses, Barbossa'll come down and shoot ye one at a time. James ain't a traitor anymore. Ye can count on that. Now, I've been used to handlin' the dead, so it didn't bother me much to throw Elizabeth's father off, God rest his soul. That's why Will is on his way, to pick him up, and then he'll help us, he will." She helped him stand. "Now that you're awake, we need a plan."

"Where's the key?"

"With our newly appointed captain," Mary said with tightened fists.

"How far out are we?"

"Not far, been only fifteen minutes or so since they had ye out cold."

It was enough information to formulate something, he thought, rubbing his shoulder as he took a few steps on his own. He closed his eyes, batted out the images that would torture him into a panic if he harped on them, and tried to concentrate on the moment. This moment, he thought to himself. Be in this moment right now.

* * *

**A/N: "Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall" is from _Measure for Measure._**


	23. Stone Walls Do Not a Prison Make

Beckett's office, Elizabeth thought, dragged to a chair and forced into it by Mercer. In spite of his recent surge of power, the office remained the same as it did the night she broke into it and ridiculously tried to warn him about the curse of the Aztec gold. The only difference was the map painted on the wall, the whole known world represented with carefully inked lines. It seemed debauched in some way, the entire world reduced to black squiggles that fit so neatly right behind his desk. That's where he was right now, she said to herself with narrowed eyes, lighting a pipe like he probably did every day.

"Where's the chest?" he asked.

"What chest?"

Mercer slapped her across the face, her cheek stinging from the blow. It was only the beginning. She would brace herself for the next one and make sure her cheeks were slack.

"Miss Swann…."

Pirate King Sparrow to you, she wished she could say, pursing her lips into an arrogant pout.

"Don't toy with me. This doesn't need to be nearly so violent."

"You killed my father!" she spat, the image of his motionless body on the deck of the _Pearl_, his corpse in her home, splattered over her closed eyelids.

"He chose his own fate."

"And you have chosen yours." She liked the sound of it, enough to loosen her pout into a smirk. Everything that would happen to him would be his own doing, whether it was her slitting his throat, or her pushing him off a cliff, or tying a rope around his waist and have the _Pearl _drag him out to sea, the sharks all too willing to chase down such a meal.

Beckett strolled over to her and placed his hands on the arms of her chair, his weight bearing down on them. She ought to spit in his face at this proximity, she thought, but he and Mercer both so close told her to wait.

"You have no one left, Miss Swann. Your father has died, your fiancé is the captain of the _Flying Dutchman, _and your crew is now Barbossa's crew. I don't think he'll be very merciful with them. He has a long history with Jack Sparrow, you see, and there is someone just dying to reunite with James Norrington." She lifted an eyebrow at that. Who would…

"If I have nothing left, there's really no way to threaten me, is there?"

"Believe me, Miss Swann, I've had plenty of people in your same predicament with far less and each and every one of them begged me to stop, and each and every one of them gave me what I wanted…all except our mutual friend Captain Sparrow. I had tried to make every deal possible with Barbossa in the past, but he is a pirate through and through. But death, you see, has a way of reordering one's priorities, and it wasn't long before he contacted me. Where is the chest?"

"What makes you think I know?"

"Come come, you were going to be married to Mr. Turner."

"Captain Turner."

"Captain Turner. You were about to be married. You stormed in here and pointed a pistol right under my chin and sought vengeance for robbing you of your wedding night, all in your soiled, rain-streaked wedding gown. You know where that chest is. Just because Davy Jones is no longer the captain of the _Dutchman _is no matter to me."

It turned Elizabeth's stomach to picture Will forced to obey the orders of this monster in front of her. The amount of death and wreckage he had probably already seen would be a terrible cross to bear, but to be a part of it—such a thing would kill him if he were mortal.

_"This is the only place it will be safe, Captain Teague," she said. His eyes squinted, suspiciously eyeing the chest in her arms. "You know as well as anyone how hard it is to penetrate Shipwreck Cove."_

_"Honor amongst thieves, eh?" He stroked his chin._

_"More than most people think." Elizabeth watched him tuck the chest under his arm and retreat to his quarters, muttering something like, "more like guidelines."_

"So I will ask again. Where is the chest?"

Only an impenetrable glare answered back.

"Very well. Since you asked for it…Mr. Mercer?"

Mercer gave the chair a sharp push, sending her toppling out of it. He cornered her and pinned her arms against the wall, his leg across both of hers to keep her from kicking.

"Such a fair little arm, miss," he said, his soulless eyes inches from the delicate skin just below her wrist. "I 'spect this'll hurt it."

Her eyes caught the red-orange fire of a branding iron coming her way. Another guard entered from the door and held her head still, his large thick hands encroaching on both her temples. Beckett let the fiery letter "P" dance just over her skin, the heat from it making the rest of her body shudder. This is what Jack went through, was all she could think, fighting the urge to retch. This had happened to him.

"Where is the chest?" Beckett whispered one more time.

"It's in a place where monsters like you will never be able to reach it."

Elizabeth knew no more but the scent of her own flesh burning, the brand singeing into her. Tears gushed down her cheeks, watering down her vision as a dizzying feeling began overcoming her. Hardly able to hear her own screams, she gnashed her teeth together to keep from biting her tongue off, but even that dulled as she began to shake within her captors' grasps.

"She's going to faint, sir, best let up," the soldier said.

"Very well." They all released her at the same time and she threw herself against the wall to prevent from collapsing onto the floor. She positioned her arm down and away from her body, unable to look at it. For the first time in a long while, she wished she was wearing a dress. How easily she could rip off a part of it and wrap it around her arm, if for no other reason than to avoid seeing her scorched skin.

"We can make this last however long it needs to," Beckett said. "It doesn't stop at the branding iron, but it can if you give us what we want. We'll return soon. I suppose you could smash the locked windows if you feel strong enough to make an escape attempt, but I wouldn't try it. The guards outside develop a queasy feeling when they have to shoot a woman."

The three men exited, locking the door behind them. Falling to her knees, Elizabeth bent over and pressed her arm against the cool soft carpet, its tiny bristles cushioning her burn. It trembled at the contact, but that only meant her arm was alive and not just a dead limb. She let out a disbelieving laugh and lifted it up off the carpet. He had done this to Jack. He had done this to countless others, her loyal subjects. Well, not necessarily loyal, but it did bond the King to her people, she thought, standing. There had to be a way. Stone walls do not a prison make, nor iron bars a cage, she reminded herself. And Sparrows don't do well in cages.

* * *

James shuffled around the deck, glancing back at Barbossa at the helm every second. There had to be something he could do before they were too far out to sea. If he found that vial in the cabin, there would be no hope for any of them, a once-again immortal Captain Barbossa blasting away everything he deemed wasn't worth pillaging.

_"Barbossa? The lying bastard. He'd seemed so protective of Elizabeth," Turner had said after attending to Governor Swann._

_"Probably just trying to determine if you would still entrust the chest to her," James answered. "Remember Calypso had always intended you to be the one to take Davy Jones' place."_

_"I'll kill him. I'll manifest myself behind him and stab him right through and then you can take the ship back to Port Royal."_

_"No, Will," his father had said. James had been pleasantly shocked to discover Bootstrap Bill coherent. "Davy Jones corrupted his purpose interferin' with life and death. The captain of this ship can't go around taking lives, no matter how loathsome."_

He remembered the stories, Barbossa sending Bootstrap Bill Turner to the depths, unable to die but unable to breathe, eternally drowning. Anyone in his position would have taken Jones up on such an offer. Anything to escape that un-death.

"Norrington! Go and fetch me some rum."

Stomping below decks, James stopped in to see Jack conscious now, but his face paler than he'd ever seen it.

"I'm to bring the coxcomb some rum, Sparrow. Shall I grab extra for you?"

He balked when Jack didn't answer him.

"Sparrow."

"Hush! Thinking." For a fraction of a second, Jack smiled, but then it gave way to a solemn look of leadership. "Mary, go bring us the vial."

"Jack, that stuff ain't to be messed with," she warned.

"Not for drinking. Just bring it down here. Don't be seen!" He waited for her to go. "Jamie-lad, it's time for you to at last be useful."

* * *

"Ye were a long time gone with that, Captain Norrington." Barbossa sneered, yanking the rum bottle away from James. They all bit down on the word "captain," James noticed. Well, it wouldn't be much longer. Once all this mess was sorted he would find some new life, one that he could make himself worthy of.

"There's been a bit of a twist in all your plans, Captain Barbossa," he said, managing to address the title with the same disdain.

"And what be that?"

"Your prisoners have killed themselves."

"What's that now?" he asked, giving an incredulous laugh.

"Normally I wouldn't say Sparrow and Socrates had anything in common, but both of them drank a poison and their followers, well, followed. The _Flying Dutchman _is still nearby if you would like me to clean up the mess. I'd congratulate you on finally ridding the world of Jack Sparrow, but I was hoping you would die first."

"Ye sure?"

"That I want you dead? With utter certainty."

"No, no, they're dead? All of 'em?" James blinked at the bit of remorse twinkling in the man's eye. "A surprise."

"Come off it, man, you don't expect me to believe you feel sorry for Jack Sparrow." It couldn't be remorse, couldn't be, and yet, he did seem truly saddened.

"Just that…he meant something to the young miss was all."

Ah. Elizabeth had a talent for worming her way into everyone's hearts. Well, no time like the present to pour salt into an open wound.

"Oh, he meant something to her, all right. They married at Shipwreck Cove."

Barbossa gave him a confused look, his mouth still. Other than a slight chest heave, he gave no other signs of movement.

"Jack ain't the marrying kind," he scoffed, hand-waving James, the confused expression still dominating his face, though.

"Anyone can be the marrying kind when the love is strong enough," James sang. "Well, no matter. I'd gladly run you through to defend the widow's honor, but even I can't steer the _Black Pearl _by myself. Enjoy that rum, sir."

"Wait! Take the helm. I need to see it."

James took the helm and grinned to himself. That had been a generous amount of salt indeed.

* * *

"Here he comes," Gibbs said. Ragetti snuggled into him and dropped his head onto his lap. "Are ye sure this is the only way, Jack?"

"It's the only way, Mr. Gibbs," Jack said, positioning his back to cover the poured-out liquid behind him. He didn't want to think about what might happen if he sat on it. "I saved a drop for ye, Mary. Don't ye worry 'bout that."

"Sh!" She motioned at them from behind the stairs, Jack's sword in her hands. "He's coming."

Jack leaned back in the cell and closed his eyes. Taking in a gulp of air, he held his breath and stilled his body, the vial in plain sight, on the floor propping up his limp fingers. And if he shoots ye, mate, just to double check? Or just for fun? Please, he told himself. I'm Captain Jack Sparrow and Mary Read herself will be pointing a sword right at him before he can even reach for his pistol.

"So it's true," he heard Barbossa say, sensing his presence right in front of his cell. "Aw, Jack, ye piteous fool. Never was cut out to be a pirate, was ye? Nor a captain of such a ship. Least ye had a fine bride."

"Get away from him," Mary snarled, making herself and the sword visible. Jack opened one eye and grinned.

"'Tis not possible," Barbossa breathed.

"Not probable."

* * *

"Calypso!" James yelled into the sea, the waves beginning to thrash, a storm drawing ever nearer. "It's me, James Norrington! I freed you. I've come to make a humble request. Calypso, if you can hear me, at least answer me!"

"Been waiting for you," he heard the sea rumble.

"I, I have a favor to ask—hold off the tempest until we dock at Port Royal." He paused. Nothing. "Calypso?"

"Captain of the _Pearl _now, James?"

"No! No." He leaned over and waved his hands. "Sparrow is alive! I didn't kill him. Your pirate lords are all alive. Just, please help us back to Port Royal as fast as you can. Please. I freed you."

"How can I forget?" Even as the sea, she, it, was still coquettish as ever. "Ye heard the sea call ye, James, and I answered."

"Yes. Yes, I've heard you many times," he admitted. "But then it was the strongest. Please, Calypso. I'll never ask anything of you again." He waited, peering down into the still sea, storm clouds still gathering above him. "I know I don't deserve your favor. I've become the very thing I've hunted, betrayed those who didn't deserve it—if you could only do this for me, I'll find another way to honor you, keep the sea a part of my life. Please." He blinked the stinging tears out of his eyes, his hands clasped together. "Please."

* * *

**A/N: The chapter title comes from Richard Lovelace's poem _To Althea, From Prison. _Thank you so much, everyone who has left a review. Please leave more to tell me how I'm doing!**


	24. Let the Great Axe Fall

Scurrying over to the fireplace, Elizabeth sifted through the various brushes and pokers for the branding iron. They must have taken it with them, she thought, her memory of her torture hazy at best. She remembered being branded, every agonizing detail, but the details of what was around her, of what they had with them, blurred. Picking up one of the pokers, she laid it over the logs on the fire and hustled back to Beckett's desk. Rifling through the drawers, she at last found a handkerchief. She crossed back to the fireplace and sat down next to it, fingering the ash on the stones.

"Sitting among the cinders?" Beckett asked, entering the room. She bunched the handkerchief up in her hand. "It's quite a reversal of fortune, isn't it? A tragic fairy tale? A rich governor's daughter reduced to sitting among the ash. I might have use for a maid once I find the chest, if I decide to keep you alive."

Elizabeth crouched, repositioning herself closer to the fire. Behind her back, she was already winding the handkerchief around her hand.

"Or perhaps you'll have other uses."

"I wouldn't bet on it," she said. "Where is Mr. Mercer?"

"He'll be along directly," Beckett said with a smug tone. "Of course, he need not come back if you'll tell me where the chest is this very second."

Her arm moved as slowly as it could, her fingers skittering along the stones like they were piano keys.

"Miss Swann," he sighed. "You leave me no choice."

Elizabeth swept up the fireplace poker like a sword and positioned it right between Beckett's eyes. With nothing more than a push, she could scald his forehead.

"No, you shouldn't have left me alone," she said. "You're still left with a choice."

"Which is?"

"Listen to me and do as I say or we'll see how you like having your flesh singed off of you." He said nothing, but took a few steps backward toward his desk. Right where she wanted him. "Take a seat. You're about to write a letter."

"A letter?" he gibed.

"A very important letter. Paper and a quill. Now." She waited for him to dip his quill into the bottle of ink. "You'll address it to the King. Don't hang your mouth open like that. Write! You're going to resign your position, feeling too much shame about what happened at Shipwreck Cove. Instead, you're leaving the East India Trading Company in the care of James Norrington."

"James Norrington!" he repeated, for once losing his coolness and staring at her with a scorching ferocity.

"Yes. He has retired from his admiral's position and has expressed to you many times how highly he thinks of the Company. There is no better man for the job." She watched him write over his shoulder, making sure the words coincided with what she said. "As for the pirates, there were far less than you originally theorized, hence your shame about losing. In the battle, William Turner, Hector Barbossa, Joshamee Gibbs, Elizabeth Swann, Governor Weatherby Swann…" she swallowed, "and Jack Sparrow were all killed. The _Black Pearl _was taken by the Company, so when you see it out sailing, you'll do well to leave it alone. She is probably out doing some privateering. You'll want to say all this much more formally, though. After all, it is going to the king."

"So it is," he snapped.

"Seal it."

He applied his seal to it and held it out to her.

"The heat from that poker isn't going to remain there forever," he said.

"I still wouldn't like to be beaten to death with it. Oh no, you're not setting it back on your desk just so you can throw it into the fire. We're going down to the pier to find a messenger." She paused, remembering the guards outside the windows. "You have a pistol in this room. You'd be mad not to."

"You're mad to try and take it."

Elizabeth lifted the poker above her head.

"Underneath the window sill."

Keeping her eyes on him, she reached behind her and felt under the velvet cushion on the window sill. Cold metal chilled her fingers.

"Doesn't this bring back memories?" he said, eyeing the pistol. "And what do you plan to do once the letter has left Port Royal, Miss Swann? We simply part ways and I return here a broken man and you to your abandoned mansion? I would certainly hate to be a woman alone in the world."

"Call your guards off from the window and then we'll consider our options, shall we?" she snapped.

* * *

"We need to dock as soon as possible," James said, approaching Jack at the helm. Gibbs was tying Barbossa to the railing.

"So you got hold of her, then?"

"I did. I doubt that I being the one who asked it of her will spare us."

"Has anyone ever told you you're a pessimist?" Jack asked.

"Maybe chasing after your lot for too long made me that way." Jack cocked his head at the resignation in his voice. Of course, come five minutes' time, they would be docking at Port Royal, he would find Elizabeth, and then strangle every breath out of Cutler Beckett's insignificant little body. The waves began to rise, sending the _Pearl _careening forward. Hold together, he prayed to his ship. Hold together, even if it's just this last time…

The roaring wind sent Gibbs reeling back, giving Barbossa just enough time to wiggle out of his ropes and draw out his sword. Jack heard the clanging of cutlasses behind him, Gibbs blocking a rapid advance. Torn between the duel and guiding the ship through, he winced and held his hand out to James.

"Guide her in!" he shouted to him before diving for Barbossa, sword drawn.

"Ye won't be able to beat me with a sword, Jack, never have been."

"First time for everything."

* * *

The _Flying Dutchman _surfaced from the turbulent waters. Hurricane, Will knew, without knowing how he knew. He could feel a tug in the space where his heart had once been, pulling him to where there was about to be loss of life on the sea.

"Will!"

"Mary!" He squinted to catch her form camouflaged in the sails and the swirling clouds. "You have your wings back!"

"They need us on the _Pearl _something fierce, Will!"

"That's where we're going!" He maneuvered the ship through the rushing waves, spotting land not too far off—Port Royal. "Let's make this ship ride the waves!" he called down to his crew.

"Aye, aye!" Bootstrap bellowed back, and in an instant, the ship skipped through the abominable tempest like a flat rock against a pond. Will could make out the leaves of the palm trees blowing straight back, like flags tied to a flagpole. For a fleeting moment, he paled at the thought of the blacksmith shop being destroyed, but shrugged it off, the _Black Pearl _just ahead.

* * *

"Bring her in, boys!" Gibbs ordered Pintel and Ragetti. He couldn't look back, not now while Jack and Barbossa were locked in a fight…to the death most likely. Don't look at it, he scolded himself. "Snap to, ye dolts! It'll take the lot of us to dock the _Pearl _in this!"

Foamy waves washed upon the deck, obscuring Jack and Barbossa's boots. The ships in Port Royal's harbor banged against each other, barely enduring the angry ocean. No. They wouldn't all be washed away, Gibbs asserted. After all, James Norrington, Calypso's savior himself, was on this ship.

"Put your backs into it!" he shouted.

* * *

"Will? Will!"

"Elizabeth?" What on earth was she doing sprinting down the pier in this? Her hair blew so wildly he couldn't see her face, just a …was that a fireplace poker? Although it was far from his body, he could feel his heart increase its beating, pounding in rage at the fact he couldn't step on land to help her. All he could do was hold out his hands and help hoist her up onto the deck.

"What are you doing? This is a hurricane, you know!" he said, holding her.

"Can you take this to England for me?" Something flapped against his arm. He looked down to see a sealed envelope in her hand along with the pistol.

"England? What are you…watch out!" He thrust her to the deck and stepped in front of her, a bullet zooming right into him. Beckett sneered at him, lowering a pistol just enough to run towards the _Dutchman._

"What happened?" he asked, keeping her crouched low on the deck.

"He got away from me and stole the pistol right as I saw you coming," she said breathlessly. That didn't begin to answer his questions. "Jack? Where's the _Pearl_?"

"She's still fine," he said.

"Please, you have to take this to England. Make sure you leave it somewhere where it will be delivered to the king."

"I can't even step on land!"

"Use buckets like Davy Jones!" she yelled at him, lifting the poker and bringing it down on Beckett's fingers just as he was about to hurl himself over the railing onto the ship. "Or send Mary!" She swung at Beckett again, the pistol flying from his hand and knocking against the deck. "Make a deal with some shipwrecked pirate!" She took another swing, but felt a sword meet the poker halfway. It was Mercer, grinning at her through sideways rain.

Bootstrap flew at Beckett with his own sword, leaving Will feeling a moment's worth of uselessness until he spotted Jack and Barbossa on the _Pearl_.

* * *

"Ye needed immortality to kill me the last time," Barbossa taunted, nicking Jack's hand. "What makes ye think you'll be able to even walk away?"

"I had him last time, too," Jack said, jumping back and letting Will enter into the fight. Maybe he would start to like that appearing trick. The three of them parried on a tossing-and-turning deck, the wind wrenching their coats and sleeves. Breaking free of them for a brief second, Barbossa edged closer to the cabin. Will drew back his sword and launched it, pinning him right against the cabin door.

"Tell me, Barbossa," he said, "do you fear death?"

"Ye can't kill me, boy! Calypso's rules don't let ye!"

"I can't. But he can."

Will stepped back just in time for Jack to impale Barbossa with his sword, driving it straight into his gut. Neither of them said a word, only exchanging a stare that could forge metal. Barbossa's was the first to break it, his eyes going still.

* * *

**A/N: "And where the offense is, let the great axe fall," comes from _Hamlet. _Its context is that of revenge, but I interpret it more or less to say, "let the guilty be punished." I regret to inform all of you that there are only two chapters left, so please leave me a review to let me know how I'm doing and whether or not you've predicted the ending. I think you'll all be pleased.  
**


	25. Brave New World That Has Such People

Mary flew Jack and James over onto the _Dutchman_, the surging tempest wind flailing her so much it felt like a gang throwing rocks at her. Jack leapt off of her onto the deck, fighting his way through the white water. James followed suit, joining up with Bootstrap. Somewhere in the heat of the battle, Beckett and Mercer had switched weapons, the latter whacking away at Bootstrap with a piece of wood.

Time to regain your honor, James thought, nodding to himself, and then lunged at Mercer with a bloodthirsty cry. Splinters flew every which way, blending into the sharp rain. At last he had cut enough away to find a face with a twinge of fear behind it. Still crying out like a primal animal, James rammed his sword into Mercer's throat, the fresh iron smell of blood mixing into the stormy air. He did not look away until the body slumped to the deck, an abrupt howl catching his attention.

Elizabeth had caught Beckett's cheek with the poker, slicing a deep gash into the side of his face. Clutching his cheek with his free hand, he continued to fight her until he smacked the poker out of her hand.

"Just good business, Miss Swann."

No, no, not Elizabeth, James prayed. He received a quick answer, seeing Beckett's head jerk back, droplets of blood spraying out into the rain. Jack had not moved after firing his pistol. They all watched the dark blood snake down the side of Beckett's head, giving him plenty of time to realize what just happened. He gave a stunned look and then toppled overboard into the churning sea.

"Pirate King Sparrow," she whispered down to him, her face blanched. She ran, well, James noticed, more like fell straight into Jack's arms, cleaving onto him as if he would be torn from her at any second. The winds stopped rustling. The sea relented.

"It's the eye," Mary said. "'T'wont last long. Who am I takin' back to the _Pearl_?" She paused in front of Jack and Elizabeth, still burrowed into one another. "Say, Jack," she tried again. "Let's get your little family to calmer waters, eh?"

"Not James," Elizabeth said suddenly. "James has to go with you to England."

"England?"

"England, love?"

"Yes." She gave a shiver pulling away from Jack just a little but he pulled her back to him, his arm covering as much of her back as it could. "It's all in the letter. Please, Will. It has to reach the king."

"It will, Elizabeth. I promise," he said.

"Come on then," Mary said to them, used to bearing the weight of humans by now. "Ought to charge ye money seein' as how often I do this," she said to Elizabeth, hoping to earn a smile.

"Thank you, Mary." Elizabeth brushed the edge of her wing. "What would we do without you?"

"That's certainly better than money," she beamed.

* * *

Jack didn't know how long the eye would last. That wasn't what worried him at the moment. He lifted Elizabeth off the deck and carried her over to their bed. She seemed all right enough, stretching her legs out to lie down, but her arms were still latched around him.

"Don't go."

"Got to take us out of here," he said, brushing back her hair. It was already hard enough to tell her no, wanting nothing more than to lie down next to her and press his chest into her back as tightly as it would go, interlock her fingers in his and kiss them and tell her from now on she would always be safe. It was hard enough to tell her no without her pleading with him. "You know I'll be right back." He stroked her hand and kissed it. "I'll be right back, Elizabeth," he said against her skin, turning her arm over to plant a kiss on her wrist. "What the bloody hell is this?"

"Just my brand," she said against the pillows.

"I'll…"

"You'll what? Kill him twice for me?"

"Fine time for you to try to be funny," he said, using his teeth to undo his lace. He wrapped it around her wrist and then wove it up and around her hand, knotting it off.

"I've never seen you without your lace," she said.

"I've never seen you with a pirate brand."

"Do you really have to go?"

No. No, I don't have to go anywhere, love. We'll just lie here and I'll make you forget you ever lost any of your gorgeous skin, he wanted to say. Instead, he kissed her hairline and whispered into it he would come back.

"Mr. Gibbs," he said, once he closed the door.

"Aye!"

"That's right we're in the eye and I need you to make sure the _Dutchman _doesn't depart just yet."

"That's a bit confusing, Jack."

"Not at all. I have to attend to something and I will make as much haste as can be made, but we will need the _Dutchman _to spirit us away after I attend to said something so I have to leave ye here to be sure to tell the good captain of the _Dutchman _we will need to be spirited away upon my return."

"From said something?"

"There, you're making sense!" Jack patted his back. "Oh, and I have a feeling Lizzie's about to fall asleep on us all, so see to it she doesn't wake up all alone, eh?"

"Right."

"Good man."

* * *

Elizabeth snapped her eyes open, cursing herself for having fallen asleep. In the eye of a hurricane and she had fallen asleep.

"Rest easy there, Miss Elizabeth. That's quite a nasty burn, that is."

"Mr. Gibbs? What are you doing in here?" She blushed.

"Just lookin' after you is all. We're waitin' on Jack before Will sends us on to Shipwreck Cove. There, there, ye only been sleepin' for a little while. Just dozed off, ye did. Happens to the best of us."

"Has it ever happened to you?" she asked, sitting up in bed.

"Er, once," he sighed. "Captain 'bout had my hide."

"Had your hide for what?" Jack asked, carrying a box under one arm and a bundle swung over his back.

"That's the best looking Father Christmas I've ever seen," Elizabeth said.

"Aye, and it's all for you, darling. Mr. Gibbs, you may signal to Captain Turner we are now ready to leave." He waited for Gibbs to go out the door. "Probably the least best time to be responsible for ferrying the dead to the afterlife, I'd wager. Can ye imagine Barbossa, Beckett, and Mercer all on one ship?" He sat down next to her. "It rightly boggles the mind. Ye don't mind we're going back to the Cove, do you? I figured we could secure your kingship, retrieve Marty and Cotton and maybe a few other good hands and then take off wherever the wind wants to take us, all while avoiding Captain Teague, of course."

"What did you bring with you?" she asked.

"Ah! Here. You can start with that." He handed her the box. "I was taking an abridged and no-frills tour of Port Royal when I stumbled upon a certain house I just couldn't help but let myself go in."

"This was my mother's china," she said, her fingertips brushing one of two plates.

"That was the first thing that warranted pilfering. Then I thought to myself, 'it shouldn't be too hard to find Lizzie's old room,' and it wasn't. Now, since ye have said you don't care for Marlowe and a couple of others in my collection, I brought you some of yours."

She took out the books, the same ones she remembered being on her nightstand. Tears welled up in her eyes.

"I took the liberty of opening the drawer to your table, hope you don't mind, and found just a few items. They're all in there, of course, but it was the little compartment underneath that intrigued me."

"You, you discovered my compartment?"

"A pirate lass you were long before I came along," Jack said, his forehead drooping down against her cheek. "I figured you might like to have some keepsakes. Such a rich wedding invitation." He picked up the invitation to her parents' wedding. "Pity we didn't have such, but then again, we would have had to have had a longer engagement to have time to process such fineries. Bet they didn't know that day they'd be getting a pirate for a child, eh?" He tapped the invitation and she almost laughed away her budding tears. "These, though. These I was touched you saved." His hand reached into the box and scooped out the pressed orchid petals.

"Why shouldn't I save them?" she asked. "They were absolutely beautiful."

"They were. So was this." He stood and rummaged through the bundle, pulling out a pair of shoes, earrings…

"These are my undergarments!"

"Those are beautiful, too, but that wasn't to what I was referring," he said, his voice muffled from the bag. "Here we are." He pulled out an indigo dress and took it over to the wardrobe. "In case you should like to dress up on special occasions…or not so special occasions. I will enjoy taking it off of ye. I promise I'll find ye more if ye want." He sat back down on the bed. "Sorry I couldn't take everything."

"You didn't have to take any of it," she sobbed, throwing her arms around him. "Thank you, though."

"It's a bit hard to hear you when you cry," Jack said, holding one of her hands with his, his other stroking her hair. "Now, love, don't…" He held her hand tighter. "You just go on and cry then, love. Don't hold anything back."

She wept on him for what felt like hours before she wiped her cheeks and leaned into him to kiss him.

"And I am sorry 'bout you and Nor…James," he said, clearing his throat at the name. "Still, it was a might harsh for ye to send him to England. I don't know anyone who'd like to go back there."

"What?" She sniffled one last time and went to the basin to run the water over her face. "No. That's not a punishment. That's a reward for him."

"How's that?"

"It's just like what I did for you and the _Pearl_."  
He squinted at her, leaning back a little on the bed, watching her come back over to him with a suspicious expression.

"What did you do for me and the _Pearl_?"

"As far as anyone in the East India Trading Company's employ is concerned," she said, propping herself into his lap. "This is a legitimate ship that belongs to a legitimate privateer…that is not Captain Jack Sparrow," she said before he could argue. "Our demises were reported to the king and this ship, wherever she may be and for however long, is simply doing what the East India Trading Company has requested of her."

"In other words, they'll turn a blind eye to our 'acquisitions,' as it were?"

"Precisely."

Jack frowned at first, the expression wielding Elizabeth's face to do the same, but she noticed his eyes far away in thought.

"We'd still have the Royal Navy after us?"

"Oh, undoubtedly," she said, nodding. "And other pirates. Don't be so quick to dismiss those. They can turn on each other like cuttlefish."

"Lizzie…"

"Savvy?" she added, unable to keep a straight face after saying the word.

"Lizzie?"

"Yes, Jack?"

"I love you," he laughed. Letting out a giggle, she threw herself into him, knocking him down onto the bed, lifting his shirt up to form a half circle of kisses around his stomach, dropping down a little to kiss his hips. Her hands found their right positions, her husband's lusty moan providing amazing incentive.

"Does that mean I should go lower?" she asked with an impish smile, undoing his trousers. She placed her hand around him.

"Lizzie…not so…we have loads of time, darling…" he grunted and she giggled, enticed even more with just how undone she was rendering him. His eyes half-closed, his mouth savoring the sensation, she couldn't resist and scooted up to him to kiss his lips. The next thing Elizabeth knew, she was on her back, a wanton pirate captain straddling her and reaching under her shirt.

* * *

**A/N: The last chapter will be posted sometime next week. Jack's reaction to Elizabeth crying is based on my husband's reaction to me crying once. I had broken my wrist and was just so humiliated and tired and worried about missing classes that I just broke down after it was set. He tried to calm me and tell me not to cry at first, but he changed his mind and just said to go ahead and cry and let it all out, which I think is more unselfish since it really gives the other person what they need. "Brave new world that has such people in it" is from _The Tempest. _**


	26. Epilogue

**A/N: In this chapter, you will learn just who it is Mary is talking to in the prologue. My dear readers, thank you so much for having stuck with this story to its epilogue. This started out at first as my "fun" story, meaning it wasn't going to be taken seriously; I was going to do whatever I wanted with it and was not going to fuss with all the little details I usually do when I write. However, over time, it grew to mean more to me and only the original universe rivals it in terms of my affections. My hope is that you too have had fun, that you got to see something a little lighter and more spirited than AWE, but still felt like you were part of a thrilling ride. I have sincerely appreciated every review. Thank you.**

* * *

Six months later…

A calm white dawn, Will smiled, anchored near Tortuga just for the sunrise. He had no idea how long he would be able to enjoy the lulling waves, seas far less friendly in other places ready to claim more lives. But just for the moment, he could relax. He laughed at himself, his hands around the neck of a rum bottle. In moderation, of course, the sweet drink could be very good.

"The bishop can only go diagonally, Mary," he heard his father complain beneath him. "You were doing so well."

"That's my wife you're harassing," Will chuckled, leaning over, remembering acting as minister and groom both, his father the witness.

"No need to ruffle your feathers over me," Mary called up to him, wiggling her wings at him. "This old man has yet to see the consequences of when Mary Read outfoxes ye."

"Hopefully he will before too long," he said. "You have someone to meet."

He'd felt her joy just as if it had been his own when they learned Anne Bonny had escaped the gallows, disappeared off the records long ago, middle-aged and a bit grayed now, as Mary would have been had she not been rescued by Calypso, but they'd left her a note telling her to go into the pub and wait that evening if she wished to see an old friend. He longed to see the delight on Mary's face when she'd tell Anne the story, but that small piece of happiness was not to be.

As if she knew what he'd been thinking, and he didn't doubt she did indeed know, she flew up to him and kissed him.

"She'll be right jealous of you, she will. Won't matter if she found someone or not."

"I'm sure she'll have a story to tell you after you tell yours," he said, kissing her back. His angel. His winged guardian angel. His wife.

"Won't be as romantic," she laughed before gliding back down to Bootstrap to finish their chess game.

* * *

"Lord Norrington," Howell Davis said, walking up to James at his desk. This afternoon the office basked in the sunlight streaming in from the windows. Fitting, he thought, the days of Beckett remembered like the Dark Ages. He noticed Lord Norrington's sword sitting on the shelf behind him, replacing the map that had been there before the hurricane. Full of plants and old military memorabilia, he stopped to once again admire the medals displayed off to the side of the desk.

"Yes, Howell, what is it?"

"Just a message, sir, the _Black Pearl _has been sighted up in the Carolinas."

"Oh. Thank you."

"Sir?"

"Yes?"

"Is it supposed to be there, sir?"

"Howell," James said, pouring two glasses of wine and passing one to him. "The _Black Pearl _is a Company ship, isn't she?"

"Yes, sir. At least that's what they tell me." He waited for Lord Norrington to drink first.

"So it would be rather maddening for anyone to suggest that particular ship is doing anything other than Company business."

"Yes, sir." He took a sip and held the glass with awkward hands.

"Why don't you sit and finish it off in here? I'd enjoy the company."

Oh yes, Howell Davis thought, sitting back in the chair, able to converse with his employer like they were equals. The Dark Ages of Lord Beckett were truly done.

* * *

"…and after they decapitated Blackbeard, they attached his head to the bow of Maynard's ship, which sailed up to Virginia with the survivors of the crew, all of which were hanged."

"That's not a very happy ending, Miss Elizabeth," Ragetti said.

"That wasn't really the point," Jack said. "The point is that it all happened here." He put his arm around Elizabeth and rolled his eyes, her dress swishing with the subtle breeze. He felt a bit scruffy next to it, hair locked and braided behind a perpetual bandana, just the way he liked it. Simple pleasures.

"Just because it all really happened don't mean the ending's got to stay the same," Pintel said, forcing Jack to share a bewildered expression with Elizabeth. "What was it that Tia Dalma said…before she was molested by Norrington, that is. 'Same story, different versions and all are true.'"

"Might have known ye would be bringing up that witch," Gibbs grunted.

Jack steered himself and Elizabeth to the other side of the street and walked along the pier, still shaking his head at them. He felt her head rest against his as they walked, slowing their pace, but he didn't mind in the slightest. Walking along the shipyard with your wife resting her head against you was just one on a long list of pleasurable things to do with her, most of which were pleasurable before she came along, but, Jack had noticed, Elizabeth had a way of enhancing everything.

"We burn up the city/We're really a fright/Drink up, me hearties, yo ho," she sang. Jack grinned, knowing she didn't even realize she was singing.

"A sad ending can only be happy if the story keeps on going!" he could hear Ragetti trying to talk some sense into Pintel. So much for keeping a low profile.

"Would ye give it a rest?" Gibbs shouted, glancing over at Jack for help, only to receive a casual shrug.

"Mind singing a little louder, love, just to drown them out?"

"I was singing?" she asked into his neck.

"Don't worry," he teased. "You're just doing what a Sparrow should."

**End**


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